Looking Beyond the Cracked Window...

2011-10-02T11:14:00.003-04:00

Today, I have realized how much I ignore that which dwells deep down inside. How much I walk around the pit instead of through it. How I can tune out the scratching inside my skull and the pain within my heart...

............has left me numb

More mind rubble

2011-02-14T17:07:00.003-05:00

What is our legacy? Or better, what is YOUR legacy?

Is it Your will. Listing out all the wordly possessions. Material crap collected over years, so you can leave it to someone. Someone we hope will cherish it, love it(call it George), as we did and not sell it on ebay or dump it off to the nearest thrift store?

Our Legacy is not those things we can touch.
It is not the car we drive. It is not what stocks or our house.

Our legacy is what is carried on after we are no longer able to plant our feet on the lovely green grass.

It is, what we'd hope, people carry away from us.

It is my one hope, of all the friends I have made in my life, even if befriending for a brief time, that they took something positive.
There had to be something of worth, if there was some kind of friendship.
In all my life

Driving thoughts(aka even more rubble)

2011-02-14T16:50:00.004-05:00

Well the New Year has not started out....as I envision a NEW Year should.

Just a plain ole bitch slap to the noggin. The ever presence of Time.
Yes, Time. The one notion, illusion that eludes me.

Death, or the struggle to beat Mr. Scythe wielding sociopath.
He has come near enough, too close in fact.
And within this thought , I struggle with my own permanence.

My very own, tic toc, tic toc. It is quite unnerving. No alarms, knock on wood. All is well here.
Physically. It is the emotional bender we are on, that just invades my purple circle too much so as of late.

Reliving days, of loss, through another person's own grieving.

I always had the fear of God. My parents did well at instilling that...
And yet, I took every opportunity to test those waters. To make a bet on that day, God was too busy to be bothered with silly me. He had bigger "things" to attend to, than to keep a watchful lightening bolting eye, on me.

I mean really, am I going to hell for my indescretions when He had Wars to peruse, famines to construct?

It all comes down to faith. So I have been told.
Over
and over
and, well you get the point.

Faith.
As much as I would like to sit here and argue theology. To point out inconsistencies of logic, I will not. For it is not my place to banter. Not open for public discussion.
Faith, beliefs, are what they are, individually.

I dont label what mine is...

It just is.

I live by values instilled in me, by my parents.
My Catholic parents. Would it matter if they were Jewish? Muslim? Buddhist? Lutheran?
No.

All faiths have a basic core. A basic sense of good.
We do not have to agree of how we get there. Just as long as we get there.

Pointless chatter

2011-01-13T18:12:00.002-05:00

I have found as of late that I am addicted to noise. Not anything specific, just noise. Television on, I am not watching it, I tinker around with You Tube, but I am not listening.
Zoned.
Complete and utter zoned.

Drowning out everything? Putting senseless useless noise to the forefront so I can avoid what is ever present and glaring?

Perhaps.
I try not to think about it too much.

The amount of information that comes in on a daily basis is just that overwhelming that if I really thought about it? I'd lose my mind.
Again, as I recall I lost it long ago.

:O)

Changing Digits

2010-12-30T13:57:00.001-05:00

So, with a relatively tumultuous year coming to a close. A year one can reflect on, learn from...and trudge forward to change the new digit. My thoughts meander, as they do. One tangent to the next. One learning curve, onto the next.

Nothing outrageously horrible occurred. There was more good that occurredocurred within my little blurb of life.

The more distasteful aspects of the year are not worth the print. They came, they went, yet they did not conquer. Nor will they.

It is what it is.

I can not change it.

I will not apologize for inaction. Or for the perception that one has of my inaction.

I

move

forward.

So with this New year, I look forward to making relationships with those friends I truly have, there are few of you by choice, stronger. Real.

To embracing Time.

To remain in awe of my children.

I look forward to endeavors not even dreamed of yet.

Shedding the ugliness of vile, negativity. There will be those who may(more likely not) come to the realization they are not connected.

That my absence will be noticed, but not noted.

There is an admission in making note.

All relationships are 50/50. Everyone carries guilt.

I shed that way back when, its time people own up to their end. I have committed myself, for myself, for MY family, to move within positive circles.

Defined as individuals without ulterior motives. Individuals who seek without having to grasp at others and steal what lies precious with in them.For people who hold no judgment of other people. Unless they can look in the mirror and see their own imperfections.

To lessen the aura of greed within my world. And those who do those things for their own agenda and selfishness.

I can not change what has been done, or what others perceive. Whether that perception is born of lies. No one ever inquired.

I am moving on.

I can not be wrapped up in the conundrum of barbed wire lives that are not my own and hold no importance.

I could banter back and forth. Yet it would serve no purpose but to prolong the realtiy.

No one really cares.

It will not change.

The expectations, are NOT two sided.

And I

can no longer wish upon a star.

I wish no ill.

I only wish for joy in those, and if they behold a happiness within their hearts that is theirs...

Then its all good.

As I will take a new year, fresh off the block. And begin anew.

May you all find what brings you Joy. Embraces you with happiness, and endures you through the coming days.

Peace. And Here is to the New!

Mind Rubble

2010-10-21T10:11:00.002-04:00

Perceptions...one to another may appear to have similarities, yet within one's own mind it holds it's own identity. Imagine yourself taking a "quiz" or having to fill out a questionnaire. Within this, you must use a scale of "never", "moderate", "extreme".
Now answer of "moderate" is MY perception. Yet to another person, who knows me, sees me, is privy to details of me, may say, "Oh noooo...you "NEVER" do xy&z"- their perception of me. Thus, another person who has all the same information as the previous person may tend to say "Oh no...you are extreme in that category".
Again their perception of me. Not MY perception of me, how I live, how I think.

This overall thought came to me, not from a political view point, not from an employment stand point, its just an overall view on an individual perception of just life around them. The overall thought can be implemented, though, just about anywhere.

My view on a topic is just that, MY view. I do not interject MY view to dissuade anyone, or to feverishly change their way of thinking. It is simply, my perception. It is not right. It is not wrong.
It just is.

It's called educating one's self. To do so, one must take in all aspects of a topic. Hear all the good and the bad. Then make an informed decision on said topic.

YET realizing, its only thier perception of that said topic.

It is not THE golden rule.
It is not law.

Its not.

See we have this wonderful idea as being part of the animal kingdom, it's called FREE WILL.

We have the freedom to think, to process ideas, to implement ideas.
My idea of what is good, is only good for me. My world.
I tell you of my idea, and you process the idea, and you think, "Hey that's not so bad" thus you then take on that thought, it becomes then YOUR perception of an idea of another.
Then you may tell your sibling, and they process this and attempt to implement and they despise it. Due to varying reasons, yet mainly their perception, their bias', their world.

Does not define the idea as wrong.

Society tries to tame the FREE WILL, for reasons of? Control? Maintaining a civilization that has an overall outward gander on the whole?
Even within these, laws, we still maintain our own free will, our own perceptions.

It does not GIVE me the freedom to rob someone, or to kill someone or to cheat and lie.

Yet the choices to make such a decision. I am aware that the WHOLE has instituted laws that carry a consequence of whatever action.

MY perception of the moment, of the act, is my truth, yet does not absolve one from said act.

I am not wrong. NOR am I right.

It is my truth.

(hmmmmmmmm all this from a question about exercise too)

Cloudy with a Chance of Optimism

2010-09-27T18:39:00.000-04:00

We come upon words that touch our thought. Thoughts that we otherwise push away, differ to the more important aspects of life, at that moment.
Forgetting that what surrounds us, encases us and all the beauty that it truly holds.

We let life cloud the vision of the truer reality that stands before us...beckoning us, if we are listening. Waiting. The most patient mistress we all have within our lives.

Do we listen? Do we heed her foretelling? Her need to share the beauty she holds within our grasp?

How many times dow e go about our daily business, oblivious to our surroundings?

A part of myself that I have always embraced and never really shared, due to when I did share I was given looks of disdain or just that I was being silly. That what I spoke of held no importance in the importance of the daily tasks at hand.
I had and have and do, take those moments and revel in what they hold for me.
The blackbirds and theri dance of flight. Whatever the meaning or what they are truly doing, it is the beauty of that flight that captures me.
The flags along a busy road. Paying no mind to the meaning of that flag and all it encompasses, yet the beauty of how the flag waves, the gentleness of the breeze that calls attention to the meaning that it holds. That slight wave, the unfurling encapsulates that meaning. Making it more important.
I revel in these moments now, an attempt to recapture what I had pushed aside for years. Lost in the minutia of the day. The moment. Lost in the tiredness of living.
These moments alleveating that fatigue.
Creating an optimism for going on. To capture(recapture) something that was lost in days past. Days spent worrying of bills, the drive to work, the moment of existing.

There is beauty in all, in everyday living. Taking the moment it takes to google something, text something...find it, hold it. That is what we take with us. Not the material we surround ourselves with, no. The most precious of life is there for us, we just can't hold it in the palm of our hand.

Why

2010-09-26T12:12:00.003-04:00

Watching a television program on NatGeo about the Holocaust. Hitler's Hidden Holocaust. I am not sure the true reason why I watch these events, these horrific acts on human kind. Why documentaries of Hitler, pull me in.
It is not for anything but understanding. Never forgetting.
I see these faces of people, real people. The look in their eyes.
The children who should be grandparents today, and are not. I hate to use the word fascinated ...or enthralled. It is not a drama of fiction, it occurred. For the hour of the program I am entranced in these lives. These lives taken by an ideology I can not understand.
I can not wrap my head around this thought process. Of when it became okay in the minds of those who committed such evil.

I have lived my life on the outside. I blend well.
Always a commentary inside, asking why. It drives me. Hence the degree, the degree that just happened. It wasn't my goal. Was NOT where I wanted my path to go.
I had bigger plans.
And here i sit in the path I chose, the path that came by and I turned.

The human psyche has enchanted me. Not that what we find out is in anyways "happy" or what we think life should be.
It ends dramatically, grossly...places we would choose not be.
Details we as humans have chosen to push away, to not expose ourselves or our minds to any way, shape or form. The reality we avoid. Facing these demons or convincing ourselves of some justification, does not make it go away. Yet destined.

And here these faces 3446 men and women and children found themselves. Or were found to be.

Utter desperation fills cavities of thought.
Hard to shake that feeling.

Automatic

2010-09-26T10:05:00.003-04:00

Ah yes..this space. This space I keep JUST in case. Just in case I am inspired. Just in case a character gnaws enough at my brain, that nothing else matters but the words. Just in case I have time. Just in case it would mean a damn thing to anyone.

Just in case I thought the words were worth...worth reading.

No worries, I am not on empty. I am not devoid of ANY thought.

It appears that the thought of sitting here banging out words, for what?
I could write the most insightful piece of work, and then what?
So what.

My love/hate affair with words is an on going battle. It always has been.
I really think there should be a diagnosis.

I could spend days, literally days, banging this keyboard. WOnderful lines of memorable rhetoric. Characters we love to hate and those that just make one say..."What?"

Life intrudes on my ability to do what I truly want to do with my words.

Since a child, getting lost within the banter and lost within the 'scenes" that play out before me.
Tunneled. And it will not leave me be until I have an ending.

It will play over and over...one chapter, one scene, until it works itself out. Then life, the normalcy of life can then carry on.
Living, while this process seethes, becomes rote. Automatic. Within completing homework with a child, or driving, or in a meeting....
"Simon"(A character in my head) battles wars on green fields in England. Or "Evony" contemplates the philosophy of her position. And then there is Mason.
They live in your head, in your heart. And they will not go away until I give them their breath.

Giving an hour here or two there, assists with this chatter, yet can not be completed until the story is completed.
Then walking away from it is okay.
For two years they have all sat, tucked away in the crevices, hiding out. Waiting for me, to give them a voice.
For two years I have missed that ability to spin their lives.
Yet I can not give them an hour or two. Its an all or nothing feat. Once again, Life intrudes.
Ah well...
This has only been an exercise in words. Pissy words, yet still done.
Not like anyone comes this way much. And maybe that is what I need, just a space to place them. The words, the characters, the exercise.

I keep promising that I will. Question is when.
Just in case I feel like it.

Let it Rain...

2010-08-07T20:15:00.003-04:00

Ever find something, folded, tattered in a book or scroll through old writings thoughts you had saved...Only to realize you had written it? This struck a chord with me tonight. Not sure why...well, that's a bit of an ommission. There are many reasons why, just I don't feel like sharing it right now. Nah....

Onward:

She stood at the door,
leaning back
against the jam.
Her eyes
trace, as
Water spit and spattered
onto the glass.
Pupils wide
following as droplets
skid
down, the smooth surface.
Her eyes swollen
tired
and fixed.
As were my feet
my voice.
I stood
watching
her long gazes,
endlessly lost
Out into the world.
Her face smattered
wet. Her
tears
trickled,
no
they eased over the bones
of her face.
Sliding down
to her neck.
No sounds.
No utterances
from her throat.
Isolation of her mind.

The rain pelted
harder.
smacking the pane.
Her stare
her pain
her heart
her tears.
Her lips, softly moved.
"When will the rain stop?"
"When you would
choose it to,
I suppose.", My reply.

The rain will cleanse
the void in your soul.
free you of those chains
the bindings, holding you
now.
The rain will then,
fill you again
with the purest
of love.
Of truth.
The rain never ceases.
It goes on.
Forever channeling
etching
Pieces of us.
When a piece wears too
thin,
and breaks free
The rain washes
it away.
Sweeping it down
the elongated
moving puddles.
Emptying out
Into the Abyss.

Grieving
this loss.
Countless
Amongst our
many.
We free ourselves.

So, you see,
The rain will not cease
because we say it shall.
It moves.
It falls.
One day, pouring
Another
drizzle.
Always bathing
A new
Replenishing.
Shed your tears
My dear dear friend.
Liberate yourself.
Let the Rain
be.
Let it be.

Review,Rebut,Redo?

2010-05-27T09:29:00.002-04:00

Back in my heyday of blogging endlessly and then burning out...I would have a weekly "What did I learn this week" post. It was cathartic flush or as I would say "The Cranium Flush" ...and a good way to keep tabs on my self, inner and outer. I often, these days will read through what I had written. There are times when I still cry, or laugh at my silliness, chuckle at others silliness, or scroll up and down to find who wrote the piece, as I truly do not believe I could have written something that poetic. Hey I have vain days and I can pull something good and worth reading occasionally. So onward with my babble...the follow is a repost of sorts. An old posting dating back to 2005. With a twist. My comments NOW to what I had written THEN. A self examination , reflection, let's see how far I truly have come, if at all. My comments NOW will be in italics and a different color font....FORWARD!

The Original Title was Meds, Learning and Whatnots..

A quick update: I saw the Doc again. Woo hoo...always fun! I have been referred out to a neurologist and some "new" meds...Should I be concerned when the "possible" side effects include, agitation, anxiety{Like I need more}, coma, altered states, amensia, accidental injury???? Don't sound too bad....lol, j/k....So that saga continues.... NOW: The side effects? Have not gone away, I dont think one can call what is the norm a side effect! Of course the coma part I am still mulling about in the head- maybe this is all a coma dream? This whole episode just sucked bananas. Car was totaled, person who hit me and caused a 4 car accident, walked away with nothing. Sold her house, sold everything. And the cause of this accident? She dropped her cell phone...

I learn something new everyday. About myself, the people in my life, the people around my life, life in general and some new useless knowledge as well.
Here's what I've learned in my neck of the woods:

I learned:
~That a flower will bloom in the middle of winter. NOW:Love this observation!
~I need to get off my ass and get these scripts out. They won't mail themselves. NOW: Still waiting to get off my ass to do this- flipside? I did write 4 more! So the other 8 aren't lonely.
~That by the year 2025, 80 Million people will die of AIDS in Africa. That stat is mind boggling.NOW: Still mind boggling...
~My daughter knows the phrase "I will kick your ass" She is 3. Hmm I wonder where she heard that {ahem 13 yr, 9yr old}. NOW: Cracks me up, she hasnt changed at all! Just the ages.
~I still dislike insurance companies. NOW: Holds true to this day.
~I still dislike snow. NOW:Some habits just never change.
~I miss watching Monty Python...and just laughing silly.
~Memories can bitchslap ya pretty hard.
~I can be a miserable bitch. NOW: Ummmm yep....
~I want to play.
~I have set my ideals, expectations for other people too high, to the point I have to question if they are actually obtainable?NOW: Wooo hooo, I have gotten a tad bit better at this, at least I can take a quick step back now and review myself and the situation better.
~I create goals that are out of reach. NOW: yeah well...
~I do not have the patience of Job.
~A new word: Synchronicity syn·chro·nic·i·ty ( P ) Pronunciation Key (sngkr-ns-t, sn-)
n. pl. syn·chro·nic·i·ties

The state or fact of being synchronous or simultaneous; synchronism.
Coincidence of events that seem to be meaningfully related, conceived in Jungian theory as an explanatory principle on the same order as causality.
Destiny is at play here - have you noticed a number of events that seem rather a coincidence? This is synchronicity, trust it and go with the flow.
{Okay it's not "new", just appears alot in my world lately}

~Otto, the 9 yr old, is a really good guitar player. NOW: And he can play violin...does he? No! Otto for those not in the know is Number 2 child. The Guitar prodigy, if you had not followed the blog at all, is The Teen, now Mr 18yr old.
~Music brings a lot of joy in this house.
~I believe.
~I doubt myself, a lot.
~I can read a 900 page book in a weekend. :o)
~Pain is exhausting.
~A smile goes a long way.
~There is just not enough coffee in this world somedays.
~On that note: People need to leave coffee alone, what's the deal with this pumpkin spice? It's just not right!
~That I am inspired by the people I work with {Aka clients} ~They never call out sick, they love their jobs, they flourish in adversity.
~The worst thing anyone can ever say to you...."No"
~I've been called worse things by better people.
~Dreams persist.
~Dwelling in anger, hides all the good.
~Sometimes the distance between people grows larger the closer you are. NOW: Still a fave thought of mine.
~About respect: Respecting someone's place in life.
~A new fun way to mess with the teenager: His fave word these days is "huh?"So, when I need to ask him a question or make a statement, I am going to speak a different language to him or use sign language,then when he says, "huh?" I feel a bit more justified.{evil huh?} NOW...HA!
~I can not make choices for others.
~The vibrant colors in my dreams have faded. NOW: Hmmm...I can still say this.
~Nothing is ever good enough for me.
~Did I say, I hate snow?....still.
~About Space: It's not the final frontier. Yet a distance necessary to persevere.
~I think I can ascribe someone else's motivations, yet not my own. NOW: Wow...
~I miss unique people.
~That I am okay. A little quirky, but okay.
~I have some really great memories, with room for more.
~Everybody has a reason to abandon their plans.
~Rain comforts me.
~A very important lesson, I have no clue how to use my voice. I can write it, but I can't say it to those who need to hear it. NOW: I have learned since that stepping out into the fire...I didnt get burned. Maybe a bit singed yet nothing permanent. Life is about risk, holding your own and taking accountability for your actions. Being vocal just puts it out there, it is not right nor is it wrong. It is what it is. People will either accept it or not. It will change things or it won't. Either way, the motion of forward still remains and possibilities of the motion is there...it is all about choice.
~I am thankful for spellcheck....lol.
~That a cat can travel on top of a car for ten miles...
~I need a really really tall ladder, so I can sit atop the wall and dangle my feet over the edge. NOW: In certain situations still holds. Some days that wall is stronger than others. Yet I remain guarded.

So...That's what I learned in my neighborhood. What did you learn?

Peace~
Jo

I wore socks today

2010-05-10T15:43:00.000-04:00

So why the newsflash? Well, it's not,it's just a reference more or less to the current weather here in New England.
I, being always cold, adore the warmer months. By April, I heave the sock drawer somewhere and do not look back, until Fall.
Like now.
The mornings have been brisk. See your breath brisk. Throw a sweatshirt and socks on weather. I love these mornings.
I like the transition from one season to the next. The wee hours are quiet. A sense of solitude and wonderful meditations.
The air has a scent, that floods the memory with Fall memories, school,football games,pumpkins, leaves and anticipating the first snow. Yesterday morning the dampness mixed with the cool air, one could almost smell snow...
Such a refreshing, make ya feel alive, moment.
Wearing socks....Transitions....

Stumbling on...

You may(or may not) recall my little post of the 7-11 chick?
No?
Okay it was part of a Thursday thirteen, :

"5. I have decided to be a bit kinder to the bimbo nice girl at the 7-11, who has asked me numerous times, "Are those yours?", and points to my nails. To which I reply, "No I borrowed them from my mother. Are those yours?", pointing to her extremely grossly oversized double d's.
She didn't get it. She just smiled."

I return to this store this morning and Miss Daft is working. I was feeling a twinge of guilt and not wanting bad Karma , I decided that I'd be nice. Actually engage her in a quality conversation and give the poor lass a break.
Sooo, um ya...
The time that I go in the morning, the store is bustling with Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks naysayers, as myself. I prepare my Baronet Blast(like I need triple the caffeine, but what the heck) and stand in line.
I had reservations, a tad fearful she'd remember me and my wit.
That maybe she had that "AHAA" moment, a severe delayed reaction, and a "That bitch"...
Ya okay...I can dream.
Alas, she didn't put it together OR she just has a very forgiving heart.
Here is the conversation at the local 7-11 this morn:
Cast:
Daft chick Behind counter= DCBC
Man In Line= MIL
Me= Me, duh..

As I stand in line, she is engrossed in a conversation with the paying customer, making chit chat about the latest media frenzied current event of her comprehension choice, the Emmy's Red Carpet. Who woulda thunk?

The others in line with me, smile and laugh at her commentary. Then another patron brings up the influx of layoffs here in CT and how these companies are shipping(oops outsourcing) to countries overseas.(Another subject, another time, another blogger). This topic is quite the buzz here.

DCBC: That is just terrible.
MIL: And this time of year no less, just bad all around.
{People nod and uh huh}
Me: I hear ya, My husband is looking at a layoff possibly this week.
DCBC: *GASP*
MIL: Really where 'bouts?
Me: XXXX Company in XXXXX. They restructured, changed positions& duties so they can let ya go without bennys, severance AND unemployment. {Its true}
MIL: They can do that?
Me: Yep...They get around it by offering another position, extreme paycut and/or a transfer.
DCBC: Transfer?
Me: To another plant, in North Carolina, Florida...Even England, India and others overseas.
MIL: England?
Me:*Nodding*

Okay I was good up to this point.

DCBC: WOW! A chance to go to England.
Me: Well yea but its to move, permanently, not like vacationing.
DCBC: But still.
{I make a crinkled nose, as I am not up for moving across the ocean. No offense}
Me: So basically they make it so you won't take the transfers.
MIL: I tell ya these companies are just killing us.
DCBC: that would be like, sooooooo hard. Learning a new country and all that stuff. The culture in England,
{She is losing me now}
DCBC: And the language, ya know? Learning a new one.

*pop* (that was brain snapping)
'Tink Tink'

And with that there was no returning,an eery hush blanketed the store. The now 8 people stood, quiet. Amazed.
All that zoomed through my head was Karen Carpenter singing, "There's a kind of hush, all over the world"
Ya so I tried.
I really really did.

Oh and you are welcome for the song ditty that will play over and over!

Peace
Jodi

Labels: A wee bit of sarcasm, Have You Lost your MINDS?., Humor Me, Insanity, Stuff, That Happy Place, Whatnots

One side of a conversation

2010-04-21T06:29:00.003-04:00

Huh?
What's that you say? Really?
Thats interesting...
No, no not much. Just life ya know.

A this and a that...with a bunch of what the f*** in between.
How long?
That long?
Allergy bill? I owe you? How's that?

Dust?
Ohhhhh the dust that blows about on this page? I should put a disclaimer maybe?
About two years...Yep it's been about two years since any word laid down here and made a home. Any new word that is...A run down
We moved...bought a big old house. Yes OLD as in built in 1885. love it. Huge yard.
Kids love it. Odin loves it.
Odin? Ohhh yeah the two year thing. He is our pup...our 120 pound PUP. He is a South African Mastiff. He is the best pup one could want. We are also fostering rescues.
Yeah..why not add more chaos to the life huh.
THe kids...
Oldest graduates this year off to college. I just felt a few more wrinkles pop through. Otto starts High School...Con he is still Mcgyver, all boy and the Diva?
More the Diva, gotta love her.

I was promoted.
(Silent woo hoo for me)
My writing? HA HA...surely you jest...think there is dust here? Yet that is my darkness. My funk. Its building again. Gnaws at me,
Painting? Again you are a silly silly person. I know, we have more room, a wonderful FULL walk up attic(another house could go up there). Yet, it is a 100+ old attic, needs a tad bit of work to be a studio. It will..one day. Sigh.

Well thats the past two years. Really, all the incidentals? Eh...*yawn*.
My hope? To slowly get back to writing, so excuse me as I stretch, clear the bunnies out of the gray matter.
Pardon my lack of, of...hmmmmm Pardon my rustiness, yeah.

So what's new in your neck of the woods?

2010-04-19T13:10:00.002-04:00

verba volant, scripta manent "words fly away, writings remain"

What news? What is new? New?
Oh everyday is new. Every sprout I see is new, every thought is new.

and yet...

It all feels old.
Crackling, deep inside. Wanting to leap out and scream, "HEYYYYYY OVER HERE!!!!"

Alas biding time, in utter silence. Words find no home. None new that is.
Finding the elusive time, to just sit and take what gathers around in the skull, knocking around occasionally. No, no, banging, clawing wanting to escape.
Yearning to place them once more in some form. Here or elsewhere, in script or prose.

As the moments pass, one by one, another gone, oh look and another and still
staring at a blinking cursor.
No characters. No letters. No excessive punctuation.

SO what does prevent NEW words finding a new home?
Procrastination? Could be, doubtful though.
Insecurity? Leaning towards.
Meaning? Do they hold anymore meaning for anyone else than myself? And why would I care...

Having let go of my words for so long. I truly truly miss them. Mourn for them.

The stories, the old stories, yearn to be read, again. Want to be placed again. With a smidge of a touch up here
and oh yeah maybe there.

Overhaul on some.

And the words whir whir whir.
Endless.

Dont assign me

2010-02-25T08:00:00.002-05:00

There are moments within our lives we feel lost. Our minds empty, yet they are not blank or erased. Nor would I think that we would want them to be as such...blank. A nice notion, yet not real.
We seek -for things...Things we believe will fill us, fill a void. Replace. Yet it doesn't. Living through events almost on automatic, to survive. To get by. Nothing is on automatic, no matter how much we try. It is done purposeful, there are no accidents, per se.
Someone once told me, "never say you're sorry, just be right". That is one of those sayings that we play over in our heads. Until it makes some kind of sense. Or we can relate to it.
Apologizing for bumping into some one...yes. Apologizing for how we feel? No. Life has this habit of throwing curveballs at us...and its never just a lob. Usually a hard line drive. We catch it and want to play hot potato with it...we no longer want it...the game gets old.
Time is usually, so I am told, what heals. No, time is what it takes for us to heal. What ever those bruises may be from, they will disappear. Turning all different colors, going through stages. The bleeding inside will cease. The pain? It too will stop. Yet the memory of it, may never leave.Time also allows us to move forward. In case we didn't notice, time waits for no one. Whether we want it to or not...it continues. The sun rises and it sets. We slumber, escaping to dreams. Then awaken to another New Day.
It is never an Old Day--Always a New one.
Things will not occur, will not change, unless we move them. When we feel this empty misery, where nothing seems to placate...looking for those answers...we need the questions. Understanding that, gives us the avenues to research the why, the who, the what...Leading to some kind of acceptance.
Having a voice, saying what it is we want, we need...understanding that all the contemplation in this world will not make the changes. We sit, we dream, we wonder. We become stagnate. Moving along for the sake of moving. Anger is normal. Just know what we are angry with...And fix it. There are things that just can not be fixed. Then what? There are the times when there are no right answers. Do you run? Run with your heart? Run with what feels right? Or live a life without that emotional risk. Making choices for all others? Do we just move along, robotic, just because it's the right thing to do?Expecting our lives to be fixed, because we are impatient...only hurts us. Mentally thus leading to physical. I had posted a line from the movie..."The eternal sunshine of a spotless mind" a few weeks ago."I am just one f'ed up girl seeking my own piece of mind, don't assign me yours"We make decisions. We make choices. We seek. We trudge through the crap, all day. We look to be happy or at least to assimilate this idea. Yet if some one else assigns their ideals, values, their search onto yours...it's them making these choices for you. As if you no longer had a voice or an opinion. And/or they just really don't give two sh*ts that you do. And any kind of acknowledgment is forgotten...This is where we may think a wall is a better conversationalist.
Giving validation is one of the key components in communication. Really. At least knowing we have been heard. Whether we are right or wrong. There will be moments when we need to agree to disagree. No two people think exactly alike. Yet we try to force this on some. To change them. Make them into who we want them to be.
Why bother then? If they aren't what you want...changing them isn't going to make it happen. That's like asking someone to cut off a finger because you like 9 instead of ten. Sooo...Now we all have character flaws that, yeah can be altered a bit. ahem.
I am sure I could come up with a list, pages long for mine. But they are my flaws. They will only change, when I change them. Not any faster nor slower. If they ever change. There are things we just need to accept.
After all this babble, we need to remember that we are okay. We made it through another day. We are still here. We see, hear, feel tragedy, evil, the ugliness of life. It inundates our world every moment. Yet we can still see, hear and feel the beauty of it as well. There are no right or wrong answers. We need to be able to look at a situation, and find something we can grasp as positive. Positive does not equal happy. That one positive thing? Can be as benign as having a really great peanut butter and jelly sandwich, where the bread is fresh white bread. The kind that sticks to the roof of your mouth and you need a quart of milk to wash it down. The positive can be some one smiled because you just happened to look at them or you just happen to talk to them. Positive can be anything. Expecting too much, too fast...will impede us. Being lazy, decompressing....Can be a good thing. There are no rules saying we need to move all the time or that we need to be happy all the time. It would be nice, but unrealistic. It will. Time.Look within ourselves for that positive. If you aren't happy? No one will be happy. It's out there...We just need to move with Time...move towards it...just a fingertip away....
Peace
Jo

In the Hue of Blue

2009-10-27T08:36:00.001-04:00

On a bright September afternoon, the warmth of not only the sun on my skin, yet words spoken.
Promises given.
A soft light chatter.
And you.

Days were numbered.
Words counted.

As if time stood still. And yesterday was now.
So much has filled the days. All good and fulfilling.
And still the grayness hovers.

I knelt in the wet grass and sought out some comfort. Long has it been since I have sat in this spot. Fifteen years to be exact.
I broke that promise today.
The reasons for not, are not just for promises.
For the reality comes.
Comes heavy.

"Do not kneel at my grave. Do not cry, for I am not there."
No you are not.
Compelled today, to seek this out. To touch the stone, to read the name.
To weep.

concrete.

A day of glee with the children, for the impending night of frolic is at hand. Which shall distract me.
Enough.

Ghosts and goblins all in their best. Behind the outward smile...a bit of tears to escape.

I wish to find the right...words. To put it all in it's place.

Dad...I miss you.

GVO October 31, 1930- October 27 1994

143
Josephine

A background story I share: Remembering Spanky

Inner Child

2009-10-03T07:08:00.001-04:00

I have made peace with my inner child. That lonely little girl who desperately yearn to be loved , to be held. To be wanted.
The little girl who found solace playing alone. No one to tease her, hidden within her world of dolls and books.

As this inner child's skin grew...her yearning became deeper. Accomplishing herself. Utilizing her drive, her motivations, as warped as they may have been, to rise to the top. To be the best. Not winning? What was that...not this chickie.
And as her skin grew around her fragile interior, the demon crept in. Eating away. Ingesting all of her worth.
That need to be. To be one of "them". To fit in. Believing in the fallacy that she needs to be accepted by "them". That search of love was misguided. A quest to "feel" loved. Having a twisted faith, that if she gave and poured her heart out that the void left would be filled. That muddy existence blurred. Escalated to dangerous/risky behavior. She fit in alright.

Coming to terms with this inner child inside, that little girl waving to me as I walk along. Whispering devilish prose in my sleep. Waking me to evil dances. Engaging my thoughts with temptuous delights. While she danced on moonbeams with that ever so contagious smile.

She gave into her too many times. Too many times her accomplishments led to her demise. And with each failure; this me, who she is today, grew stronger. {And for a time, building a wall. Surrounding herself, isolating herself. Keeping all at bay. No one gets in alive. It just hurt too much.}

I miss that child. Her innocence. Her zest. Her impulsiveness. Her LOVE of the world and life.
Yet she was unable to cope with the balance needed to survive.
Fighting and kicking the woman all the way.

I embrace the woman she became over the years. She still has growing to accomplish. Her path endless beyond the horizon.

Yeah, I have made peace with my inner child.

I sent her to bed. She's grounded.

Peace

Once Lost

2009-09-29T08:57:00.000-04:00

There are times when we all feel lost. Lost in a world that doesn't recognize that we are not okay. My travels have not been without these moments. Looking back is not a horrible thing. Looking back should be part of that movement forward. Gazing out with a slight touch of THEN, or taking that hard stance and picking over every single little moment, is all good. It affords us those moments, of a realization of where we were and where we ARE.
Movement. Forward.
Looking back at some hidden files of mine, I made a discovery. I found Old Old writings. As I sat and read them, I even wondered if they were mine. "Did I really write that?"
Example:

"Some clarity.
I have come to some realization that this little dirt path of mine sucks. I am getting off it. Making a turn. Now.
My meanderings have taken me way off course. Feeding my head with poisons, so toxic I may have really gone too far.
My search is not ending or will it ever be finished, it just needs to take on a different direction. A healthier one.
Having a hollow that we perceive has needing to be filled, we engage in a thought process that can be debilitating. Seeking that something more. Bah.
I know now what I need is change. A new.
Emersing my mind in behavior unbecoming TO ME. Justifying that it is painless. It is okay. It is not.
Denial. Evil demon filled word. It eats away at the flesh until it gets to the core, then there is no turning back. There is nothing left to turn back to.
I have made denials all my life. Living in this world of my perception. Yeah, it got me through. Yet wasnt true.
I expect honesty from others...One would think I's start with myself. Be honest with myself. Observations upon my character, hurt. The truth does. Hence, I denied they existed. Leading me deeper into a world of half truths.
During this little jouney the past few months I have gained an enormous amount of knowledge about myself. Part of this little get to know me session has been destructive. Part of it a great learning experience, still it seethes with negativity.
That last mask is there, waiting to be removed. It may do so on its own. No matter how much I resist it. Actions have lead to the moment I have lost control. I can regain it, I am aware. Yet I sit on the edge here and really there is only one way off. I just hope its not too late.
My personality, my whole make up, has run on extremes. It is black or it is white. No gray. I just ran into the gray. I dont like it. I dont find it enjoyable. I pushed, I pushed and I pushed that envelope. Bursting through, as I always do. Stepped right into this world, unfamiliar, unknown. I dont have a clue what to do with it.
I have never been able to just do a simple task, any endeavor I have ever engaged in, just gets taken to the next step, then the next until there are no more stairs. I want to just jump, to float endlessly.
Chaos. I create it. I thrive on it. I despise it.
Whatever comes out of this, I know I can not change it. I can no longer perserverate on it.
I do know where I want to be, I am there, physically. I just need the mind to catch up.
I need to begin to forgive myself. Walk away from the bubble of what I thought I was looking for in this quest. I have found it doesnt exist. It is not tangible. Why? It is an abstract idealism. A goal I have set up for myself that is unobtainable. Unreachable.
This has been fed by the lack of self esteem. Lack of self respect. Lack of self confidence. And Yes Flava, lack of self love. In my search for all of those, I perversed it. Thinking and temporarily sated with the attention. {Just so ya'll know THAT was a hard admission}.
To heal now, I am going to take my lumps. I am walking off the path. Beginning a new. I must. If I don't do it now, I may never.
I am so exhausted of being lost."

People have asked me what my Defining moments are/were, and I truly come up blank. And yet when I look back ad read...I would have to say those moments are locked up. They have been lived, they heaved and at times seethed. I relive them only to keep the perspective. To remain on the path that is now. Reliving, picking them apart, opening those long locked boxes to appreciate where I stand.
Yes I wrote that.
Yes I made those admissions.
Am I still lost?
Getting closer to the focus than I was before...

*art by rabidpescatore

Why nothing gets accomplished...

2009-09-29T06:38:00.000-04:00

Why? Oh I don't know...

"Mom, Anna's touching me"

Anna don't touch your brother.
"Ma! Paul won't let me use the phone!"
Paul let your brother use the phone.
"Can Kyle, Casey, Mike,and Zach sleep over?"
WHAT?!
"Can Kyl--"
I heard what you said, Did you fall and hit your head or something? NO, they all can't sleep over.
"Why not?"
Not tonight
"Why not??"
Ask your father.
"I did, he said ask you"
Because.....errrr, I have things to get done.
"Like what?"
Excuse me?
"Mom"
What!
"Conner took the ball"
And?
"It's mine"
And?
"I was playing with it"
Paul please get your clothes from the basement
"Huh?"
The clothes...
"What about 'em"
**The Look**
"Sigh"
"Can I go to Trish's"
Yes please do
"Can I have ride to the mall"
When?
"Now"
Now?
"Now"
I guess.
"Mom! Conner hit me"
Conner please don't hit your sister.
"She bit me"
Anna....Did you bite your brother?
"No"
Anna!
"Daddy, Conner hit me"
"Mom, can we go?"
Yes, Paul we can, jus' a minute please
"Why does HE get to go to the mall?"
"Shut up Jeremy"
Paul, don't talk like that!
"Why can't I go?"
He's older.
"He's always older"
**Dumbfounded, confused look on mom's face. Need a minute to process**
"MOM!" **Crash**
What was that? Why is there cereal in the toilet? Nevermind I don't want to know.
"I'm hungry,can I have a snack?"
After lunch.
"I don't want lunch"
You just said you were hungry.
"I want a snack"
Just a minute.
"Can I have a drink?"
Yes
"I can't reach it"
Why not?
"I'm too short"
**That explains it** Take one out of the fridge.
"I don't want those"
Of course not. Be right there.
"Mom, Jeremy won't start the PS2"
Jeremy please start the PS2.
"Why?"
I asked you to?
"Paul never starts the PS2"
Does it matter? Please just start it for your brother
"Why can't Paul?"
I didn't ask Paul.
"Mommy?"
Yes Rhianna.
"Can I sit on your lap?"
Yes Anna.
"What's that?"
Keyboard
"what's that?"
Mouse
"How come?"
Because.
"What's that?"
Pictures.
"Birds?"
Birds.
"Mom!"
WHAT!
"Can I have a grilled cheese?
I thought you didn't want lunch?
"I'm hungry"
Why aren't the dishes done?
**Silence**
Hello? Why aren't the dishes done?
"I don't know"
It wasn't a question.
"Sounded like one"
Stop Running!
"Mom!"
Yes *sigh*
"Can we play outside?
It's too cold ou-...Yes Yes you play outside. Outside is good!
"Mom?"
Whatttttttttttttttt.
"I love you, you're the best"
Thanks Anna, you too!

This is why I can't get anything done!!! LOL. This was just in the course of an hour LOL. Welcome to my world. Is it bedtime yet??

Riptide

2009-09-26T09:51:00.001-04:00

Riptide...

Living our lives with such a freedom, such a flowing existence. Wading out in the water. Floating. The water surrounds us, unknown to our bodies the amount of pressure that is being exerted on us. We swim freely, out farther and farther. Not paying attention to where we are, or where we are headed.
The air, salty to our nostrils.
We take that look behind us, realizing we have drifted. Too far out.
We begin to swim back, only to realize we've been pulled out. So caught up in the moment. Caught up and knowing the consequences, we continued. Not a care in the world. We werent doing anything wrong.
Now, we struggle against the tide. The harder we push forward the tighter the hold. The panic. The fear.
Legs kick harder. Arms struggle more, getting tired.
Our thoughts slam, panic, anxiety at full throttle. Desparately we swim for shore, going nowhere. Going nowhere fast.
Air comes shorter, as we bob with the sea. The free floating, now an endeavor of a lifetime, just to stay above water. There is no voice to be heard. The mind is too occupied with keeping the body afloat. One attempt to scream, our words stifled by the salty water invading our lungs.
The momentary clarity, as your eyes look to the sunsetting out over the horizon...Will this be the last? A calm surges throughout my immediate existence.....
.... Giving up. Giving in. Letting the battle be won.
Letting your body just drift. Hoping to float endlessly in this peace that washes over. Your mind escapes to lands, far far away.
The tide has won.
In the cold, lonely water, the numbness of your toes, your fingers...is all you dont feel.
A realization.
The tide has ceased to pull and push. Within your submission, the tide and all its anger, also relented.
Free. Free from the riptide. Free from the demons that plague one's mind. The fatigue suddenly slides away, to give you room, for the stretch to shore.
The struggle no more.
The suffocation, those desparate gasps for air. Any air. As you lift your tired bones from the water, collapsing upon the sand. Sucking in air, hard and heavy. Just thankful to be alive.
Looking out to that horizon as the sun gives it final bow of the day.
Ever so thankful. To come out on the otherside. To be embraced within all that pain and all that beauty.
She made me see, she made me feel, deep to my core and within my psyche. All of that power, all of that angst, all of what she is...She showed me...I am alive. And she wanted me to remember. And never..
ever,
Forget.
I won't.
I can't.

Peace

Catch ya'll on the otherside!

Dear Muse......

2009-08-26T07:27:00.000-04:00

Dear Muse,
I am writing you this letter to....ummm to

Dear Muse,
Hey how are ya? How is life? Way the hell over there? I am writing you this little -

Dear Muse,
Greetings from my brain. I just wanted to jot down this note to inform you of my ~~missing~~. ~~disdain.~~ frustration irritation and every other dang word under this yellow orb and blue sky!

And yet, in my own little reflection, I take ownership. I can admit my flaws. Yes to you more so than anybody else. I will take my fall for this failed relationship. I can totally understand why you choose to stay away. Ignoring my pleas to return.

I dont let you be you.
I get that.
I sat outside today, during my lunch. I miss you more than ever. My heart feels empty without you.
And all i have ever asked was why?

The thoughts have passed and all the reasonings followed.(Read that excuses). I own it.

For the first time in, oh say 38 years, I have no real desire to write. In any fashion. Sounds so simple. So easily remedied, doesnt it?
Alas it is not. There is so much attached to that thought.
38 years.
I have always written. Always. In some fashion. Free and paid. For desire, for want, for need, for it was me and I was it.
Now, I feel like a lost child.
It is not just writer's block. It is not burn out.
A wee little girl writing, more like scribbling, fulfilling her every whim on paper with ink.
Grown into...

To what?

A grown little girl who had a passion for words, for the story, for it all.
Gone.
Usually when you lose something, its in the last place you look. I feel so empty and yet my life is just so full.
THat space and that time, the zone? Has moved on. Is that it? You have found another to fulfill your needs?
Inspiration is...lax. None. I feel very uninspired. Can this be so true? That the words would finally leave me? That I would have nothing left to offer?

That sitting here is punishment and the affair is over?

I dont know quite where to go with this emotion. For it is new. I have never felt so alone and abandoned.
I even turned down an opportunity to read and edit for a script.
No desires.

This is not all you, my dear wonderful muse. I would suppose it has been very demanding. Truly your time away in all these years has been few, and your stays away short.

I have also put constraints on you. I realize this.
The carefree, freaky- free spirited child, told to mind her p's&q's.
Letting others dictate what I(you) write or how I(you) write. Letting the statistics hinder any progress. To deluge the mind with worries, where you never had one.
Your freedom, stinted.
That double edged sword. Writing to write, for oneself. And yet wanting to share. TO more than just a few.
We did that.
We did it well for a bit.

Then we ventured out, added a few new topics to the curriculum, as we are made up of more than just benign soft and sweet thought provoking words.
We are full of substance, yes?
We are more than what one may read. One lousy opinionated post. A moment in time totaled of only minutes. And people begin to drop off.
No sweat correct...
and again and more leave...

Left to wonder of what really should be written. Silliness and rants. Yes yes we are powerful with our angry words. We are intrigued by the thoughts of philosophy. Of course we enjoy a good chuckle, now and again.

Limited. Feeling suffocated.

I get this.

I now understand why.

As the sun burned quick on my skin, a feeling of comfort comes from such- the sounds, that once were my inspiration, the smells the commonality.
The bench in which you sat, now empty.

My dearest Muse, I am not begging you. I can no longer grovel, or even entice you to return to my embrace.

Just the time we had was so

so bittersweet.

with love,

WTF?!

daizie

Didn't I just do this? Oh...yes a year ago...

2009-08-25T07:11:00.001-04:00

Reflection.

There is the gnawing reflection of who stares back at me. A little wiser, through mistakes and plain stupidity. There is this face with a few more laugh lines and laugh I do.
Underneath, behind this woman who stares at me, is still that inner child. She still exists.

Being afforded the time to take a gander back and immerse ones self in all that is good.
Remembering where one was in relation to where one is...at the moment.

This past year has been a huge 'growth' spurt. More emotionally. More of "that chatter in the matter".

With this reflection, of the passing year, I can come out the otherside, with a calm feeling. One with a taste of serenity.
Oh, there is still strife, those little things that just claw from the inside just wanting to unleash at the world. That wants to rip the inner sanctum of the self to shreds.
And yet one trudges on fighting the good fight. Muck and all.

Today I reflect on those who have and are the ones who have given me life. In one form or another.
I am not an overly religious individual. At least not by the standards of society. I do not assign myself one name over another.
Yet I carry a faith with me and it has no name. It just is.

On this day, as everyday, I want to revel in the moments of a life...
With gratitude. With contentment.
And I am all and more.

As these years zoom by, these reflections spin more frequently. With more intensity.
The realization of "Hey wait a minute I just did this a year ago!"...well didn't I?
My heart has been humbled. My heart has filled with joy. And not a damn day goes by that I don't relay this to those I hold close. To those I find a connection.
And to those who found one with me.

Many expect 'things', many wait for 'things' to occur, to be given.
Not me. Not today.

I want to give to those who have given me laughter, tears and the rawness of life.
For without them, there would be no me.
The obvious is my parents. Well duh...
To the one who still makes my heart skip a beat, yes to this very day(20 years now as of Wednesday).
And to my children, who everyday remind me just how sweet life is...
"Living in Sway"....everyday grabbing those moments keeping them as fresh as one can, for the day will come when one loses that memory, cluttered on and on with another.
To my friends..the few I grip tightly to and "get me". Understand and still stick around.

ANd to all of you I have come to know, or get to know even if it is just through words. Inspirations, dreams, aspirations to be a better person, life, love, laughter and to be placed in the world of Humble, all through your eyes(words)...
I thank you.

Two words for me, that sum up the whole: Contentment and Gratitude.

I will always seek that "Peace". Having been asked numerous times, is there any moment in my life, where I can place peace?
No...I have come to accept this as my quest. I have come to accept that Peace will come when I lay my head down and my eyes will no longer see light.
I am content with this and I am grateful I have what I have, who I have and I wouldn't change a thing. Not one iota.

I ask for nothing. I desire none. No trinkets, no treasures, no baubles at all. No new shiny things to make me go Ahhh...
All I require is reciprocation. No acknowledgment, except Time. I have all I need, right here and now.

To the old, to the new, to those to come, I welcome it all.

All in a Reflection of one passing year.

* 1,388,437,953 seconds-where does the time go?

Peace
Jo

And to those wondering, my silence is not due to any depression or anything other than...L-I-F-E. I am well, quite well in fact. I have been reading EVERY.SINGLE. Blog on my side bar, that still exists...I have...I just haven't time to dialogue. ~ Peace
...as it was more a statement for myself, and to share, yet not necessarily one I seek comments(The 'happy bdays'...I wasn't seeking them...) ;)

Someone's Mother

2009-01-27T09:11:00.001-05:00

Seventeen years ago, I was scared. I felt so alone.
My life, on that very night was about to take a turn that I could never, ever change.
Life as I knew it, was over.
Seventeen years ago, on the eve of today, I cried myself to sleep.
The next day, I was to become a mother. My first son was to be born. Man, was I scared. I remember pacing around my room. Folding clothes, placing them in the dresser. Then refolding them. People call it nesting, I called it freaking out.

Four days prior to this moment, I was told the baby was breach. The next day, I went back to the hospital, they were going to move him manually.
Yes, manually. Yeah....it's as fun as it sounds.
They began the procedure, by pushing on my belly. "This baby wasnt budging." a nurse said as she pushed with all her might on my swollen body.
A specialist entered the room, examined me(which at 34 weeks is no pleasure walk in the park), and then the ultrasound. The baby was stuck. The head under my rib cage, the feet, legs in a sitting position. And, there was not enough fluid to attempt the procedure again. They would push,the baby could move right back, the cord could be collapsed and then the rest of what the Doc said just blurred. The last thing I remember was, "Considering the kidney issues(mine), the baby in breach, you will have to come in on Monday for a C-section". Dazed, I could only say, "O.K."
Monday came, I was awake during the whole surgery. That was a trip in itself. My mother came in the operating room with me. Well to make a long story short, we had no idea if the baby was boy or girl. Twenty minutes into the surgery the Doc asked what names I had picked out. I replied Haley or Paul. Then he popped this little tiny baby with mounds of hair over the blue surgical barrier, and there he was, Paul Michael. I will never forget that moment. Nothing at that very second mattered. Not the burning in my back from the epidural, not the fact that my face felt like it was going to explode from being tilted. His eyes were wide, his lungs were strong. I was strapped down still unable to hold him, to feel him, Gramma had the honors. God he was beautiful! I remember weeping. After that I don't remember much. The pain medication kicked in pretty quick. lol... wooo hooo loopy yes I was.
Then the news came. He had to stay in the nursery. He was tiny, just 5 pounds. He was 6 weeks early. Then more news came. There something wrong with his heart. He needed to see a specialist. They scheduled an appointment with the top pediatric cardiologist in the state, for the day we left the hospital. They assured me, it was just a mur mur, and common in babies born early.
They were wrong. That day is a blur as well. I remember standing in a dark room with my precious son, staring at a screen. On this screen was a color image of his heart. Dr. Diana was pointing out the hole in his heart. The nurse had to catch me as my knees gave way. I cried all the way home.
They avoided surgery and monitored how he was doing, at 8 weeks old he was back in the hospital. He had turned blue, I rushed him to the ER. We spent the next 2 weeks in the hospital. This child had tubes everywhere, needles probing him, and he had to stay in a tent. He was only allowed to be out of it a total of an hour a day. Devastating. But again, he pulled through. By the time he was 5, he got the all clear. The muscle had grown over/around the hole. That had to be the most joyous day.
Today, he is known here, as the Teen, Cave Dweller, Rocker. Yes the rebel gum chewer. He turns 17 today. I turn with him.
Bless this child...my precious precious son. To see him now as he towers over me.(Although he knows I can still take him out. I know he is reading this,hi Paulie)To watch silly movies or even deep serious film, and discuss the topics. To see a comedian and burn the punch lines for the next month or two. He gets Monty Python(need I say more?). To sit and chat with him, there are moments when I get lost in his eyes. Those dark chocolate eyes, I am transported back to that day when I first looked into them. Like a short film, all the moments of this little man deluge my brain. From day one to the present.
At 17, I feel pangs of my growing as well, and yet I am satisfied, comforted in knowing what kind of human being he truly is in his heart. His talents are incredible from his music to his writing. I am in awe and I am jealous, his thoughts and his style of writing blow me away. My pride wells, that he is my son. That he is who he is.
His fortitude, his common sense, his outlook on life and his own future.
His future. There was a time when I had thought that was limited. Yet he fought, and he survived, from day one.
I will never forget that day. The day I became someone's mother. The day I became Paul's mother.

Happy Birthday Paul! 143
(Baloney hater)

Peace

Smoldering....wispy

2009-01-03T08:17:00.001-05:00

Dramatic entrances I always figured I came in this world screaming, I plan on going out the same.Now don't get all in a tizzy. I am not going anywhere...yet. One day, yeah I guess so...it's the way of this life. Where we begin and we end.
And all the in between we call living.
Living.
Hmmm...We all live so very differently. Yet in a very simplistic view of it? We all have the same common goal. To make it to the next day. The other side. Maybe a little more haggard...a little more muddied...more confused......or on a good day...with some clarity.

From the moment we awake...or goal stretches us to just make it to that soft pillow again. And then renew to another day. All that....that "stuff" we complete in the meantime...fills the time to get to the otherside.
Some having nothing to do with that endeavor. Some, having everything to do with it.

Seeking solitude. Each finding our serenity in places others would never venture. Dreaming of new ventures. New lives. Stopping...observing...in the big picture, It's all the same. We may look different, act different..change day to day. We are all the same. Just looking for our piece. Our piece of???? This life.

Living in bubbles. Living in our own little worlds. For a time or forever. Whatever gets us through. Wanting. Yearning. Lusting. To? Feel alive? Feel the ticker beat like crazy. To have beautiful images pass before our eyes. Burning within our souls.

Some never see parts of us. Some only see what we want them to see to know. Waiting for the questions. The answers sit.
Sharing our deepest most secretive ramblings. Resting assured, there are others like us. Living parallel lives. Existing...to exist. To breathe. Blood pumping through the veins. Wild passionate. Calm and serene. Rage filled. Melancholy. To catatonic. All striving for the common, the same, no different. To feel alive. To know it here, pounding in your chest. Breathless at times. Suffocating others. Claiming a stake. Wandering off.
Returning to the fold. Trapping within the negative. Pulling out of it with an indifference. Jaded. Yet vibrant. All to just get to other side.
To exclaim, I made it...once again. Maybe a bit bruised and battered. A worse for wear. Stronger. Undying. Doing it for ourselves. For our love. No one else's. Along this trek, we embrace new lives within our own. Taking comfort in the similarities, apparent. All unique in our own singularity. And all soo much the same. In the core. Understanding, forgiving. Forgiving, for there will be a day when we seek that redemption upon ourselves. Coming around and going around. It happens. It is the hum of life. The murmur we hear when alone within our thoughts. The droning white noise. Bright. Piercing at times. Startling. For all that comes my way...I give it back.

I will not be broken. I will not allow it.

Keeping my bright world tempered...dim. Occasionally rekindling. Igniting those fires. Other times, smoldering.

Waiting...

2008-12-25T08:09:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and all that jazz!

There are moments, rare, yet there are...

2008-12-09T00:00:00.000-05:00

When I could wish to be thirteen again.

*An edited Repost*

Amongst my thoughts, As I sat looking out the window watching the snow tumble to the ground in the wee hours of Sunday morn, I was brought back to *thirteen years ago, Today.
The day was exactly the same. Snowy, blizzard like actually. The sounds I remember? Grumbling from people about the snow, Snow plows and a brand new baby's cry.
Thirteen years ago, I gave birth to Otto. Looking back, I smile and chuckle softly to myself, that how apropos that a blizzard be occurring on the day HE was born.
My perceptive child. Filled with wonder of the world about him. Constantly questioning. Incessantly pushing the limits{and my buttons}. Yet with the heart of gold, Midas would be envious.
I remember holding him that night, no one could come to see us, they had shut the roads down. Even in the hospital, with many other mother's and their newborns, I felt desperately alone.
Sitting as close to the large window in our room, rocking him, I could hear the snow as it fell.
In this little isolation, I was comfortable with him snug against me.
He is a child to cause Adults to wonder. Taking them off guard. He is a quirky kid, whose view on life and the world keeps mine in perspective, on a daily basis.
He has grown to be the ever sensitive young man, with a killer sense of humor and a mouth that runs, his mind has much difficulty keeping up. All good though.
This is a child when my migraine kicked in, doted on me and made sure the other children were busy and quiet.
He is the resident class clown, who loves horror and gore. I see him as the next Wes Craven, he sees himself as the next Rob Zombie. Even a wonderful ability to see the obvious, point it our and dissect it with ease. A cartoonist, with a flare. I'm cool with that!
He seeks to fit, unknowing he already does.
Quick to advocate and even step in, with no forethought on the consequences that may fall his way. It would not deter, for he lives within "the principle" of the matter.
Whatever he chooses to be, I am sure he will accomplish this, in the most unconventional means. It is just his way.
Not many thirteen year olds can teach an adult about living in the sway. {here and here}.

So to you Otto{real name Jeremy} Happy Birthday my child. I am thankful and blessed to be your mother. And to have shared these thirteen years watching you grow and become the individual you are! What a journey it has been and I am sure continue to be. I love you!
Oh Yes and he is an awesome Bass Fisherman as Well!
143
Mom

*edited

*Birthday*Repost

a momentary lapse of coherency

2008-05-29T07:12:00.000-04:00

I have sat and stared.
stared out upon this world, shook my head at times nodded occasionally as well.
In awe of audacity.
In awe of what is offered, in forms of bulging raging clouds, burned with red and orange. Screaming out hey look at me.
Look on,.
I know this...
It fills every pore, it oozes out and falls to the kindly cleaned floor.
Puddled.
staring back up.

I have sat here and gazed at hues no one could recreate and no one could fulfill.
If one deepest wish is to hand me all the true colors of the world, right here and now.

and at times an overwhelming sadness just sits with me.
next to me like a long lost friend and all those little evil sprites come forth, gnawing.
insecurity. trust. fears. slamming right back.
and i have come to realize I havent come far at all.
not at all. I just walked around a circle. Same chaos. Same events. Just different people along the circular path. in time and place, we all walk differently. Its that point in which paths cross.
feeling there isnt anything one could accomplish to blast off this path and onto another. it all remains the same.
Just,
just in between is a few new things, and many old.
people come and they go for sure.

I sit and gaze. I wonder. I remember. I relive and recount...and and and sigh, begin and end.
nothing
ever
changes.

not when deep down inside shadows linger. creeping about in that core of what truly lives and heaves inside. dwelling even on our best moments. waiting.

thoughts mingle with self talk, i'm okay, i am, i'm okay. convincing or attempting to do so anyways. that if i tell myself this enough, that somewhere in the head, the brain will push it along into the believable compartment.

maybe thats why i have always been a creative sort.
to paint and create and see it on canvas. to make it concrete, even if its only to myself. or gardening. something about the dirt, the mud, in your fingers. holding this tiny seed and nurturing it. watching it grow, and fulfill that need for some joy. even if it is short lived. that the satisfaction of my own creation, is enough to carry through.
where i can do this, and its a creation a sculpting of a part of myself, without having to worry about the physical end of myself.
that what lies within is thus projected out in a form i can not carry. something that yearning for, and do ungodly things, abusing ones self, etc...i can do with an appreciation that i did it. its a part of me.

sullen mood. filled with an uncertainty. a doubt. of everything. everyone.
including
myself.
It goes beyond the rationale. The "reason". grasping onto the time, struggling to keep it forward and to avail. not yet. finding that space. that one little corner, i can just be content. just freaking content.

a vain madness.

lost.

empty and a void.
Feeling as if, as if I could walk on water and it still isnt good enough.
as clouds roll in and a distant clap and a boom.

go through the motions. turn on the auto pilot and just move.

it all shall pass. it will.
it just gets old. very very old after all these years.

Oh...Oh my

2008-05-05T11:28:00.004-04:00

Is it me? Am i missing something? Even if I am, say a language barrier- um what of those who do not like, use their heads...and would hence go about following this recipe? Shredded Chihuahua?? I really think that they should CLARIFY...not many are up their cheeses?

Is this for real? Honestly screenshot from MSN Food
Gives a whole new perspective on the Taco Bell commercials...
Poor Mr Shivers
Of course I did look it up and it is an actual cheese....

and OH yeah! HEY!

Dang...

2008-04-23T18:32:00.010-04:00

"Everything comes to pass. Nothing comes to stay."

On this cold morning in the valley...definitely feeling of being caught in what feels like a train track. You know, where the pant leg is hung up on something, and a superspeed train heads your way?
Bitter and cold are good synonyms for my mood at the moment.~jo 2004

I am a statistic.
Well, we all are, really. I will get to that in a bit. Maybe.
My life is in a Maybe mode or a "we'll see" mode.
or even a 'eh' mode.
Da funk.
Where've ya been Jo? Or as endy says so nicely daizie maize?
Welp. I have been.

Seriously. Just being.

I had to step back and go out in this place some call life. Yeah, that place. *shiver*
Been keeping myself extremely busy.
With:
Not writing.
Not painting.
Not reading.
Not.
Nada. Zilch.

Oh I have been gardening. Lots and lots. Exciting no?
As I have written quite frequently(at least the posts visible here), I dont have in me. I can not explain it. Every day. I stare.
At blank notebooks.
No words. No desire. No drive.
It is a strange feeling.

Anyhoo- I have been on vacation. For me that consists of hanging about the little abode here, puttering about the house and yard. Cleaning this and that, muttering to myself most of the time. What is incorporated in this? Oh I wont lie to you, dear reader. No. Its my own personal hell. And I am just beating back those demons, while admonishing myself for getting back to this point.
Ah but no worries. Truly.
Just a mind game I have become accustomed to. I saw it coming. No biggie. It shall pass, as most times it does.

So whats' new? Oh thank you for asking. Lots. And so much so it would bore you to tears. Here is a nutshell of it.
Give the man a t-shirt and he is content for a day.

Limey, green. BRIGHT limey green espadrilles...should be banned. ICK.....

My three and a half inch barrel curling iron has finally passed on to electrical never land. Sigh a moment of silence for the 15 year old appliance, I knew so well.I never thought going to buy a new one would prove to be so difficult.

Still waiting for a "clarification" from one of the mother's of the six girls who beat another girl...her reaction of " she shouldn't say things she can't hold up to"- NOT AN EXACT QUOTE- If I recall hers was more appalling. And it explains much, apples do not fall far do they?

Go here: Catching darkness incredibly moving.

And here....Cello
Too cool.

I have been watching quite a bit of the political thang. Ok Ok, too much. Yet I find it humorous when they speak of certain people,e.g. Catholics, Low income women, or women with a college education, etc. I find it curious how they like to categorize everyone. As if because I am a white woman, within THE age range, dont forget baptized Catholic, etc etc....That I should be voting for Clinton.
NOT.
I sit talking to the television, arguing with Chris Matthews and guests. Of course Tucker once said that "I" am a bad person.(Not by name, again by stereotype) Read it here.
So why I am astounded is beyond my comprehension.
I also feel that just saying that low income white women will vote for hillary based on their status. Pfffffft.
One, I am technically single, which technically puts me in that category. BUT! I have a degree so that puts me as an Obama liberal. OMG. Please.
Dirty pool is dirty pool. Spin spin spin...I am going to send Hillary and all of her campaign people salad spinners for Christmas. Geesh.
The DNC(isnt it funny how the initials of this organization sounds just like a gyno exam? Jus sayin')
needs to straighten out the chaos...Irks me.
Sigh, that tired me out and made no sense.
Welcome to my world.
And oh I am bitter. I have been bitter. Dang it. PEOPLE are bitter Hillary, get the frig over yourself. Geesh. Tell me I am not bitter while you sit in one of your TWO mansions? Eh...

People are pissed. Stop trying to sugar coat it. People are. Come work with me for one day, Ms Clinton. Just one day. Then go work with my friends in New Britain, and really see life. Tell me people arent bitter. I dont know who you are chatting it up with, Stepford mayhap? Not the people I know.
I am graced I have more than some and less than most, and I am grateful and appreciate it.
But hell yes, I am bitter. I am angered by what I observe.
(I had a good line and I lost it- see my mind is just floating...comes and goes)

Also I am planning an Art Show/Auction, which is occupying me immensely! I am going to post more in depth, as I have a favor to ask. We are looking for Artist's(any genre/medium) to donate a painting, drawing, pottery,etc...the money will go back into our Program for our consumers. It is being planned now, and we are looking for a fall show/auction. It will be in Memoriam of Jason. A consumer who tragically passed away last year. In short, the discussion came about to honor his spirit in some way positive. Instead of putting money towards more training for staff, we thought it should go back into the programs(Art therapy, Music Therapy, pet therapy,etc) that Jay loved so much. We are hoping we get enough to donations to assist. The goal is to have artists from all over AND our consumers (who are working hard as we speak on their pieces!). As an inclusive show.
If you are interested in donating anything, art,etc or even supplies let me know. I will have a more in depth post about this, as we have more solid plans.

Oh and a special hello to Endy...to Meleah, thank you thank you you are the bomb! And to Tara, again I am humbled, thank you made my day.

Anyhoo...So thats my little corner of my little existence....and you?

The space I live

2008-04-15T08:55:00.000-04:00

Blank. Aloof. Indifferent. Lacking that something.
Words. All set in motion to describe an individual. To place a justification of why.
To somehow, make sense of the world in which that person dwells.

No affect. None.

That would be me. Living within the extremes.
It is one of those quirks about me that I never really would have ever taken notice of, until someone felt that they needed to point them out to me.
First coming off as laid back. Free spirited. Open and bluntly honest.
THen it sticks in people's craw, I assume. For then those very words become weapons. One that I have no real defense, except my own.

It takes a lot to fire me up.
It takes a lot to excite me.

I wouldve been wonderful on the stage, for I have learned that when someone tells another a bit of information, there just may be a certain reaction they expect.
Not,"Cool."
Flat. No (!), no tone higher than a normal voice.

It is what it is. I make no excuses.
I have learned that it is daunting to speak with me at times.
When a person may be excited or enraged, I sit placidly, listening.

There is not much that will bring my rile. Some, yet not much. I find many place value on items or events that I find, eh. No tso exciting, in the scope of my little world.
And I am the one who lives in a bubble.
GO figure.

Living within the sway of life. It makes no dofference to me if I do or don't. If this happens or that happens. Life moves on incessantly at times. I move with it.
Kind of a simplistic view.
If I had plans for months for a certain evening out, and on that day it was canceled, for whatever reason, my reaction would be, "okay."
No affect.
It is not disappointing to me, ever. It's just not.
Life is never boring and I have been really good at entertaining myself for 42 years.
Do I enjoy things? Of course I do. Do I get excited? Of Course I do.
You may never see it. It lives inside me. I am not outwardly an individual who will jump up and down, scream and holler. I have, but that is rare.

I make every attempt to "show" excitement. As I know it can be heartbreaking, or have an appearance of raining on someone's parade-if I don't. I have trained myself to change my tone. To add a bit of excitement in my voice.

Maybe it goes with the whole other part of my make up, of being the one who blends in the crowd. Can be in a room, participate in whatever is going on, and people would have no recollection that I was even there.

See...I find the words that are constantly bombarding my skull to be more enjoyable, thatn life on the outside. There is rarely a moment that exists for me that there is not a story, a plot a scene in my head. COnversations between characters that only exist in my head.
I fall asleep with them. I will play the scene over, and over and again, until the scene, the characters have said their lines to perfection. That the facial expressions, the nuances that makes them come alive are all right where they should be.

Writing is a natural force in my world. Creating worlds, people, events. Needed a place.
Once the words spill to paper, I will rarely go back and change it. Rarely.
I have found that when I have listened to others about a major change, the whole world within my head changes.
Doesnt make sense. I am sure I have turned many readers off. My babbling.

Maybe due to my own personal lack of affect is why I create those who do and with such drama.
I dunno.

It truly is an affliction. One that I can never cure. One I am not even remotely sure I would want to change. People have tried.
The misperception of I am too idle. I dont have enough to do. That I needed a life. I went and got one. Nah, a few and threw them all away, as they only existed to appease those who thought better than I.
Myth.

Life will always happen. I can be my own creator of what that entails.
Does this paint an awful picture of me? Mayhap.
Oh well.
I dont live to answer to anyone but me.
self absorbed...another little catchphrase. Oooooo how bout narcisitic.
Myth.

Greetings

2008-04-11T10:52:00.005-04:00

Bitch.

(yeah yeah I spent way too much time creating these...ah well.)

Content

2008-04-10T07:00:00.003-04:00

"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary."
William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)

"Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?"
Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)

"I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play, bring a friend... if you have one."
George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill

"Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second... if there is one."
Winston Churchill, in response

Many people have written about the content of what other's write. Examining some psyche, something to place down as a justification..that we need a reason to write.
eh...
Some write to just be social. Here in blog world...I get that, I have and may even have partaken in such...

Examining my own reasons for writing or where I "go" when I write, is something that I have lost.
I had begun this journey with not a reader and I wrote what came into my head. Dome fiction some non fiction and some just th explain silliness that engulfs me.
It was never meant for one to say hey that chick can write. Never.
It was meant a s a place to write what bangs inside.
Whether that would be some world of invention or a perception on this world I walk.

Most times, for me...to write even a story, I need to get into a zone that I can not explain where or what it is.
Darkness is very much a part of it. Not necessarily a sad place. Or filled with regret or sorrow. Just a place of thoughts, or actions not embraced by the "norm of society"
You, the reader may take those words and deem them dark. That is one's take on the whole game sure.
It is not mine, perhaps.
I have a knack for reaching inside to a place many wont go. For whatever their reasons, I dont ask.
Outwardly I can appear to be, in a spot of commonality with everyone else, yet the buzz that chimes and churns my words is a spot saved in hell....
I see darkness, I hear darkness and I could even reach out and tell you the taste of it.
All for the written word.

It is not evil, sad or happy.
It is a spot I go to get where I need to be...now my unfinished work? Its not truly unfinished, just not polished in my mind. I have to get to where I need to be, so that those who live int he words can move on with themselves.
A moral or just an ending. That is the difference.

So cause for no alarm if the words you read...scare you. OR the make you think the insanity of being me has taken its toll, it has not. Its just where I need to go, to do what I do.
My intent has never been for this space to be a diary. It was a place that grew into 6 different spaces, for all the different thoughts or creativity.
I am not a frilly flower waiting to be plucked out of the bunch...For true. I just have an insatiable need to place words in some cohesion prose...and sit back and look at them and just say "Okay"...that is all.
I don't seek words of praise,platitudes or accolades.
Although appreciated, I seek what stirs inside, what one thinks at that exact moment...how ever silly dark or corrupt.
I make no judgment.
I do get a bit brash when words left are personal, inwardly seeking to drive some dagger to puff up another agenda and to somehow push me off an imaginary hill.
That I wouldn't tolerate in my 3D existence, this being an extension of it, I do not here either.
Want to leave a thought, a comment, agree to disagree, fine.
Personally attack, wont happen.

Its my space, however odd, strange and dark, it is still mine. I reserve the right to engage or not. People come and go , just like in the physical world. there is no sadness, I find none. that would seek me. it just is. I wonder, as humans do, of why people would even come and stick around. Many come and lurk about, I am never knowing they even exist. that there is this person who lives there in their little world, reading my very momentary thought. what they take from it, is left a mystery.
I can count three regular readers and commenter's, easily with no pause. the occasional drop by fly in people. And I can usual tell when it is when they have posted.
Its all good, for I read about 50+ blogs a day and maybe leave one comment. I cant not say why, just is.
I am not always on and can not just zip out a howdy do...like so many find with ease. I can not say with any certainty though that my words have meaning to anyone else but me.
And its all good.
I can not be funny or witty or even pretend to be charming. If its where I am at that very second when I make the choice to pound away at this darn keyboard I have grown to hate...so be it.
There are times when I reach into to that dark space...yet it shall be no alarm. No cause...just words. Just that point in the big scheme of life..that I sat.
That is all.
Am I truly that "self absorbed", as someone once stated about my space here..meant as a compliment, found more to be a back handed dig...
Isnt blogging self absorbed within itself anyways?
Isnt it?

What are you?

2008-04-08T13:48:00.000-04:00

I am.

A questioned posed:

"What are you?"

A question answered:

"Excuse me? What I am is factual... a person made up of many different parts. THe what of what I am, exists within a statistic. A subjective view."

A questioned reworded, and posed again:

"Who are you?"

A question answered:

I am an enigma.

I am what I am and I make no excuses.
I am the heart that has no boundaries, that seethes and pulsates
boiling over
on a kettle of ice.

I am what you see and then more.
I am the monster within that seeks to eat you from the inside out. I am the brutal reality of the one I call self.

I am the one who feels every blow
Every slam
And will find no wrong.

I am you and you and yes even you.
I have no segregation, I fit like a chameleon.

I have seen the world through the world's eyes
So what if I chose to see through my own.

I have the compassion and the love
That fills thy cup
And the soul that Satan has attempted
To claim.

I am the one who is sitting in the next room, oblivious to your agenda.
I am the one who
Writes
The agenda.

There is no great secret. I have none.
There shall be no query of what
Or who.

I exist to exist.
I live to breath and breath to live.
NO dent on the world and all the markings of impact.

I am.

Who are you?

2008-04-05T19:22:00.006-04:00

HE WON!!!!!! First Place in all his categories! Wooot! Rock on Son Rock on! I will post "THE STORY" of the day and competition on the morrow...I am exhausted.

Song he played...solo perfectly!
click to hear the songs- WARNING-..heavy metal, but just listen for the song and what he played I promise you won't get bad karma ...First song was in the heavy metal category, second was just 16&over category!

dwelling

2008-04-04T13:40:00.002-04:00

The evil that dwells within. Devours, is mine and mine alone. That which has cast itself amongst all that is known. All that is loved.

A perception of the mind.

Intertwined within the words, hovers a life. An existence beyond all others...
And at times found wasted crumbled on the dirt path.
Breath in.
Breath out.
Dust floats and falls. Floats and falls.

The mind, when in too deep, looking behind the crevices, is a dark, stank place. No words can label that which is and yet there it sits. With a sickening smile and chuckles.
Sipping from a glass made of souls. Damn him!

Although this part of the path only appears when a weakness settles to stay. One perceives it as this weakness. When all the strength cradles within leaps...
Leaps...no faith. No ...

Empty. And yet we carry ourselves through day in and day out. The smile glued upon the face, or is it that mask? New day, new face as the insides are devoured.
Ripping the bones from head to toe and managing a smile.

Thus the retreat back into where we are safe. No light, no air choking on the knowledge we choose and are not chosen.
And, accept it.

A semblance of a life.

Not afraid.
Not alone.

It just is.

Stagnation

2008-04-03T07:02:00.001-04:00

I've been pondering:

When do we lose ourselves? That child within?

We have conscious memory of 'who' that was, yet along the way we forgot them somewhere. Left Behind.

That child we see in photographs, the toothless smile, the sleepy eyes.

Recall.

Yet, no real memory.
No memory of motion. Of smell. Or even sound.

We sit and we watch, we may even allude to the thought, of our own offspring.
Reveling in their youth. The innocence we gave away, and for some, stolen.

We marvel at their physical growth and their inner growth. Like magic before our eyes.

A tender moment, bitter sweet.

A deluge upon the senses, and we are back within our own mind.

Where is that child? Where did she go? Seeing ourselves in those around us.

Clutter.
It is the clutter. The baggage of life.
Somewhere, that child stands.
Waiting.
Anxious.
Her blue pinafore dress and patent leather shoes. White nylon socks. Hair just perfectly tressed.
Waiting at some forgotten location.

She is there.
I tell no lie.

We grow into "responsibilities".
An evil aura surrounds that word.
The sign post?
No. No.
Twisted more like, a detour on the path.

Immersing our being in the daily what ifs. Thoughts. seemingly organized, yet hold the truth of being scattered.
Wanting to run amongst the daisies, again.
To giggle, again.
To say, I am not care.
And mean it.

It's there.

We lose the silliness. The wonder. There are no more surprises of our senses. Everything dampens the spirit. We let it.
We lost the map.
Forgotten the original destination.

And we meander onward.
Then lounge back and wonder, why?

Give into yourself. Set yourself free.
Seriousness has its place.
A smile belongs everywhere.

**
I have learned that being driven to succeed, is a path NOT paved with gold. NOthing precious at all.
If it is not done so, remembering what we left, lost or forgotten.
Those little moments>

When reaching out, within and around.
However we accomplish.
Just declutter.
That Chatter will remain, time will not.

Time is not forgiving. Not in my world. I can sit here, now, and see the one I was and man was she messed up! I have forgotten, yet others hold that image to their heart and some to their souls.
I let go.
They refuse.

That little girl, lives within my heart. I havent forgotten her and haven woven a direct path to her heart.
Life will always have the responsibilities. The pressures...blah blah blah...
Who made up the rules?

I make my own. I refuse to lose that sense of my inner self again. To forget her at some crossroad. Alone. Waiting to play.
I find the irony in how we look at our own children and we sit in awe of what they possess. We wonder what the hell happened. Ponder how we grew.

Still there.

Do you know where your child self is today?

Peace
Jo

Walmart ....Its about time

2008-04-02T06:56:00.004-04:00

A few months ago...I had written about Walmart and their lawsuit against a former employess who is now disabled due to a tragic accident.
Kieth Olbermann say is well here in his Worst Persons: Check it out.
I found this to be outrageous. Inconceivable. My anger, my ire carried through that everyone and anyone who would listen to my blather, I spoke. I managed to even get to the Administration of my Agency. TO get the word out. That our Agency pulled our accounts. I rallied against the Corporate Wheel...and would convince anyone NOT to shop there, to write letters.
I even recieved a letter from Walmart. A form letter. A form letter with my name wrong. Not just spelling Jodi with a "y" or "ie" my name totally off...not even close.
Anyhoo....Olbermann brought it to light and more papers got a hold of it, and it spread faster.
As of last night- Walmart sent the husband of this woman a letter. THEY ARE DROPPING the suit. Here.
A spokesman for Walmart, Pat Curran said:

"Occasionally others help us step back and look at a situation in a different way. This is one of those times," Curran wrote in the letter.(Via MSNBC & AP)

The pocket must of felt it. I do not take this as some warming, or stepping back. Sorry I am a bit cynical.
I am pleased for the family. Yet THIS kind of action should never have even occurred. To tell me, that someone from the outside made them see things in a different light, only, in my opinion, means Walmart didnt appreciate the negative press. The lowering of their profits.
I still won't shop there. I still advocate for people to find alternatives. (I have many reasons, this one just topped it off)
Hoooray for the Shanks...now maybe they can get on with their lives with some peace and less worry.

Spring has Sprung

2008-04-01T07:29:00.001-04:00

Spring is here.... Yet the forecast still looms with cold dismal temperatures. I am becoming impatient!

The shadow are long. I love this time of year. When the birds return and the buds on the trees begin to bloom.
Sigh...
The Diva and I were sitting on the porch observing life outside, she noticed the long shadows of the trees and inquired why they looked so different. I was not quite awake enough and stumbled on my answer when she came back with, " It is soon spring, the trees are showing us they are stretching. Like a cat when she wakes up."

I'll buy that.

So with spring comes....
Flowers
Showers
Raking{Woo hoo}
I can return to playing in the dirt
Warm sun on my skin

AND????

Spring means?????????

What?
Not clear enough? Need a closer look?

Hee... My Office door... Sorry Bosox, Belfast and More importantly, Sneakz and yes of course Dan and PG!

Ummm...who am I kidding? No I am Not! LOL evil, pure evil. Bwahaa haaa~~

PLAY BALL!
And the mayhem begins, who is playing!?

Peace
Happy Spring!
Jodi

Everything You did NOT want to know...

2008-03-23T13:51:00.005-04:00

Fob. Such a strange word. One of those words, you say over and over and yet once more...the more you do, the more odd it is.
I was sitting in my truck, waiting for my Teen son to finish up with guitar lessons. The word, fob, entered my brain. Actually there is more to that, then the word just popping in, but that is neither here nor there.
I thought, what is it? Is it a word? A real word? Or was it/is it an acronym we as a collective made into a word.

fob.
key fob.

According to Dictionary.com

1. a small pocket just below the waistline in trousers for a watch, keys, change, etc. Compare watch pocket.
2. a short chain or ribbon, usually with a medallion or similar ornament, attached to a watch and worn hanging from a pocket.
3. the medallion or ornament itself.

and according to Dictionary.com it is also, an acronym. Free On Board.
And at Wiki.
Just about everything you really didn't want to know or need to know. But I did.

I am going with the key fob definition at Wiki.

'Cause, I can and that is what I was thinking about, in my crazy freaky(stuffed up) mind.

fob. Just strikes me as humorous. And...I got nuttin' to post about while working on Chapter Four of the SibeBar Tale. This is all I can come up with to entertain my small yet faithful group of readers.
fob.
I have tons of key fobs.
One for each grocery chain in town. That makes three, although I only shop at ONE. But ya never know I just might shop at one of the others, and I wouldn't want to be without my fob. They look at you funny,"What? No fob? We must get you one!" picks up the phone presses a button, over the loud speaker,"We need a fob in check out 6, lady has no fob." And everyone turns to look at you, like you are some alien.
I have a Ben and Jerry's key fob. Gotta stay on top of the new flavors.(The Man is addicted to Ben and Jerry's).
Best Buy fob. They love me.
CVS fob-I despise CVS(another post)
Walgreens fob.
Hallmark.
Staples fob. I have never used it, although I am there quite a bit. My mother has used it.
Bob's- a clothing store here in Southern New England.
I have fobs I have never used, I can't even remember when I got them. I have more fobs than keys.
Two. Two keys. Truck and the house.
This then leads my brain, or what is left to think this is not a key chain anymore. It is a fob chain(hence the definitions from Dictionary.com). A Key chain-holds keys. More than likely more than two. With an additional fob. Not 12 fobs and 2 keys. So I have a fob chain. I just rest my keys there so I can find them.
Now if you read the Wiki on key fobs, it is just not solely those little store reward cards. It is anything you add to a key chain(or fob chain) I have a daisy(duh), a little fob with a frog on it an my name(spelled correctly! with an "i") a kitty paw from Emily Strange. A heart lock with my name engraved on it, and a Buddha fob. Yes a Buddha to go.

Now I do have a "normal" key chain, with many keys, yet they are my "work" keys. No fobs. fobs do not belong on my work keys. As I really shouldn't be utilizing any fobs while working. Really I shouldn't.

Then another key is on my lanyard. Separate word- separate use. Lanyard one key with one work ID. Again no fob- unless we stretch it and consider my ID a rather large fob. Not much you can do with it. Except get into work. What fun is that?

fob.

ga'head say it ten times...

okay Teen is done with lessons and I am out ...

fob on!

TV Talking

2008-03-19T17:10:00.012-04:00

A typical day/evening of me talking to the television:

Not sure that my cat cares that his food is "restaurant quality", I have inside information,they don't care. I hardly doubt they have ever dined in such a fine establishment that this food is supposedly made to resemble(?).I would almost go as far and say(you can quote me) they prefer their food to:

Smell
Have feathers
Be furry
and possibly be moving.

And what is with "perky and cheerful"? What does that mean? I could get around the 'perky' aspect of a kitten, maybe a cat- I suppose.
But cheerful?
Isnt that a bit subjective?
I am currently staring at my cat Poe, he is sprawled out, exhausted from an evening out last night. His fat(reserve)belly well pronounced. I can't say whether he is cheerful or not. Definitely NOT perky.
Cheerful?
Sated? Maybe.
Content? possible.
Daft, dumb and doesn't really care? Sure thing! Unless you are furry and move and make sqeaky noises when he bats you with a paw.

I have to wonder what a perky and cheerful cat looks like.
I mean when Poe is sleeping is he thus cheerful?
Or just a lazy mouse killer, who stays out all night and sleeps all day. In between travels eating and I assume using the natural cat litter mother earth provides?
Even with catnip, he isnt cheerful. He is a drug addicted cat. I am his enabler. We even give him snacks!
Did they take a poll of cats? Was there little bubbles they had to color in? I am mean those bubbles can be a pain, and any cat I know(well my three daft ons) cant hold a pencil, that I know about anyways.
Oh what if it were chads? Maybe it was just cats in Florida? Their votes don't count.
I hardly think that Poe of Kalliope or Abby are cheerful. I haven't seen it. Indifferent and indignant.
And if I had dog presently, as I have in the past, I doubt he/she would enjoy a delectable beef stew with peas. Never, ever have any dog I have known, has ever eaten peas. You could bury ONE pea in a load full of doggy goodness(aka mooshy smelly stuff) and they would find that ONE pea and spit it out.
Now dogs? They can be cheerful.

Okay the chick on Silk commercial? Saying that your SOY MILK in your "taste testing" with cereal was COLD.....IS NOT A SELLING point! And cereal does NOT have personality!
What is more outgoing? Talk to you? Flirt...what? There are personality to cereals dependent on the type of liquid you pour on it?
Explain!
What if it's a personality you are compatible with? I don't want to be sitting there at 5am getting ready to eat my cereal and have some obnoxious cereal attempting to slam me so early. I will use the disposal! Not a good way to begin the day. Ya think? The only term I know that has that word before it and has a personality is killer.(Think about it.)
I want to make sure I am not living in a cave...or have missed something that I am just not taking notice of here...

Oh yeah! Happy Spring! Wooo Hoooo! I get to play in the mud sooooon!!!! Its all good in my little world!

Chap 3:SBT "Sisters will be Brutal"

2008-03-19T09:09:00.006-04:00

"I see I am getting nowhere. You sure you want spend a week with me? I forewarn you, all bets are off."

Snapping out of her funk Carter gazed into her sister's eyes,"Fine. Until then- how are the kids? The Jackal,err I mean your loving and adoring husband?"

Avery chuckled,"They are all fine. Why is it you despise him so much?"

"Who Joeprah? Mr I can fix you with my hocus pocus psycho babble?"

"Yes, Joe", her smile blared white, knowing full well she really liked Joe. What Carter didnt like was making admissions.

"Remember when I was working for Kathleen and Judith HeartSong?"

"Yes."

Carter continued, "And I was insistent on living Life on the Edge?"
"Can't wipe it from my brain." blunt and to the point.

"And Mr Fantastic took it upon himself to be my savior?"

"No he didnt Carter"
"Yes he did. In the process of the BS, convincing Andrew that it was all some Mid-Life Journey, sending Andrew on his way ." she paused taking a long sip of her coffee,"And me off into my descent into hell."

Without hesitation, "No Carter you convinced Andrew, you pushed him away all on your own. You, took that road, that descent all on your own. It was," Avery realized her voice had risen, quieting her tone,"YOU. Took that ride into hell. Andrew got out so he wouldn't be dragged into it with you. No, scratch that, BY you-all you."

Carter gathered her purse and her book began to slide out of the booth. Her bare legs rubbing loudly against the cheap vinyl.

Avery exasperated, "So you run again. You, open the door and you didn't like what you heard.

"No, Avery I just find it hard to stomach the crap. Yanno, I have to wonder at times on why, I sit and listen to the Missives from Suburbia and all the hypocrisies that comes with it."

She stood next to booth, leaning in towards Avery,"Your reality, my dear sister is just as effed as mine."

She turned on her heel to leave, about half way down the aisle, Avery's voice chased her,"We still on for Mom's?"

Carter just waved her hand,"Yea whatever."

It is Monday afterall...

2008-03-17T09:55:00.002-04:00

*This really should be over at Opaque, but there isn't enough readers there yet and I just wanted to share with the 'masses'.*

Ever begin to shave your legs, get distracted and forget to do the other one?

Ever have two pairs of shoes same exact style, different colors, get to work and realize you have one black and one brown on?

Ever put your foot in your shoe, feel something, dust it off as just a sock. More than likely one of the kids?

Ever remove said shoe(AND not notice its a different color) to remove the foul offending sock, to find a dead mouse?

Ever jump around and do the heebie geebies?

Ever have a small glimmer of okayedness(its MY word) and think maybe, just maybe one of the three stealth yet daft cats may have caught the mouse that has taken residence?

Ever wonder what the REST of the day is going to be like?

The Short and sweet of it....

2008-03-15T17:13:00.005-04:00

Life never, ever fails me...ever.
First a disclaimer...
yeah yeah...
The Sidebar story(SBT) is NO WAY, a representation of any non fictional character. Nor does it represent MY views on ANY particular individual,blogger or their space on their blog. I take words, titles are words and in no way INFER anything than what it is words, that are floating about, and strung together, as my noggin sees fit. The Characters speak...FICTIONAL.
It was a way about 5 years ago to do a massive pimpage, shout out what have you to my then massive sidebar(over 100+ links).
I continued on with it,as links change and etc etc....
If I include your link in the story it is for A. Linking and a shout B. Not at all what I feel or think of YOU.
If you are linked consider that I am an adoring fan. I would never in anyway use this space to "flame", or insult a friend.
IF I have offended anyone let me know. IF you would like to be REMOVED from SBT or my sidebar let me know. I am not that easily offended.
K? K.
Its either feast or famine, and when I started this little chapter story, I had no immediate plans for anything beyond oh say tomorrow. Yes Deb..you hit the nail on the head!
(And no Deb didnt say anything about the story, it was a previous comment on another post....)
Then I received a call. A request.
One that is daunting and well, now I am on a mission.
THe short of it...to make a design to be etched in a headstone.
A client of mine had passed away last Memorial day weekend and in Feb of that year his mother, well had an untimely passing.
So the request is: A mother and a son, holding hands(in silhouette), the boy throwing rocks and out of the splash are two doves flying away.
The rocks makes more sense if you know the back story.
anyhoo....
So I am banging my head...here is what I have so far....
Not sure how etching is done or engraving on granite is...I have seen beautiful artwork at cemeteries...Its to help and to give the memorial place an idea. If anyone wants to help or would like to submit something...let me now. IT can be painted, sketched, psp...whatever...Let me know. I will reward ya kindly.(not sure how but I will...and not $) lol...Pass the word...
Peace
and are we all straight now?

SBT Chapt 2:"It's all in the appearance"

2008-03-15T08:10:00.002-04:00

The Diner, an old greasy spoon. A long bar in the front, stools, that had seen the better days, lined the counter. She sat in one of the booths near one of the large front windows. The smell of coffee and grease hung in the air. She quietly sat and sipped her coffee. Occasionally swiping her long hair from one side to another.
Her book sat on the table unopened, she stared out Gazing into the Abyss of the street. The town she grew to adore and fear.
The waitress came by and refilled her mug without her noticing. If she did she didn't make as if she knew.
So enthralled and lost in her mind, she had not noticed Avery coming down the small aisle.

Avery a tall woman, with a smile that would capture anyone's heart. Her whole persona exuded a confidence, that made even the most confident, men and women, jealous.

"Hey Huckdoll!", her voice smoothly slipped from her lips. She was always jealous of Avery's voice, seductive, enticing.

"Don't call me that, where and why did you ever start calling me that?"

"Dunno," Avery plopped down in the booth seat across from her," Doesn't matter. I've been calling you that since before you could utter a word."

She just sat there, staring at her cup, watching the little fragments of cream swirl around. Avery let out a sigh,"What is it? A postcard has you all-"

"All what?"

"Despondent? He is thousands of miles away." Avery waited for a response. She watched as her once vibrant sister melted right before her eyes.

She wiped the solitary tear that seeped from her eye, took a deep breath,"Hey you wanna go North next week? See Mom hang like the good old days, play scrabble and all that silly jazz?"
Avery winced at the very thought," Carter, are you serious?" Unsure if she was hearing her baby sister correctly. Amazed at the abilityCarter had to switch emotional gears.

Carter's only nodded, "If Mom says OK, yanno how she is, sure I am game. I need to do something, get out."

Carter's heart suddenly began to pound, echoing in her ears. She wasn't sure if it was the thought of her real reasons for wanting to escape and spend time with the number one Immoral Matriarch. The thought of spending a weekend with her Inane Thoughts and Insane Ramblings. Wouldn't be her first choice of a getaway. Yet it was better than facing Andrew again.
Right now it is better.

Avery's voiced pierced her mind wandering, "Hey" waving her hand in front of Carter's face, "Helloooo, Carter."
Carter looked up at her sister, feeling disjointed, feeling she had been somewhere else and just realized where she was in reality for the last ten minutes.
"Where the hell were you?" Avery paused, staring intently,"What are you doin' now? I don't hear from you for months. Are you working? Still writing?"

Carter lifted her mug and shrugged.

"What the frig is that? What has become of Carter? The one so entwined with her writing, her loves, what DO you do?"

"I tell stories, its what I do."
"Well that is enlightening, what else do you do out there in the shack? Which I think is just so beneath you. Really Carter you have a house, a big beautiful house-"
"That is Andrew's house, not mine."
"Yeah okay we wont go there..."
"I write, garden, dance, anything to keep the little bits of gray matter occupied."
Avery dead panned her,"Dance?"
"Yeah, dance."
"What kind of-" Shaking her head,"Carter, you need to pick your ass up, stop living In the Shadow of the Iris and live your life. He can't touch you anymore."
Energy began to build up from her toes, thrusting its way through her body-Carter felt like she was about to implode.

All characters, places and 'things' are pure fiction and do not represent or characterize any living persons as real. With exception to the link to the real person's space in the blogosphere...

Sidebar Story: Chap. One

2008-03-09T10:41:00.006-04:00

She danced about the room, the only audible sounds, her slippers shuffling on the tile and a soft humming emanating from her throat. And yet she danced. She waltzed.
Inside, she heard an orchestra, playing a lovely yet mournful song. Hugging air, to her it was The Man of her dreams. People lined up on the side of the ballroom to watch the couple in all their glory.
Twirling about in her worn slippers and robe. Lost in thought of what was, in a time too far.
One last twirl with such ferocity, she lost her balance and tumbled to the floor. Coming face to face with a picture. Now laing on the floors tiny shards of glass tinkled as they fell.
Tears fell and smoothed across her cheeks...
"...why paisley? why?", paralyzed and unable to move, rocking herself to another mind numbing outpouring of raw emotion.

The days always appeared bright. Even in the grayest of cloud cover. She would walk with a step, one could only describe her as dancing, not walking. Standing on the edge of the field adjacent to her tiny shack called home. Her mind would flutter as she gazed out reveling in the moment, marveling in her ideation of life. A Green Earth, a day filled with smiles and fresh fresh aroma of wildflowers, is all she needed.

She traveled about her piece of the green earth, although the hot summer had turned most of it to dust as it burned in the late August sun. Wandering down the path , stopping to pick up her mail. Her mind attempted to retrieve when she had last ventured this far from her walls.
A month perhaps?
A pile had accumulated, she sifted through what interested her. Bills almost never found their way to the top of the pile.
Junk mail would peek her interest more than bills, as she viewed it as some insight into what was going on in the world, at that very moment. Some kind of brief reality of what was important, out there.
She glanced out her window, seeing the birds on the feeder. Their chatter seeping into her mind. How loud it appeared it her.
She let her mind drift, as she lived in the existence of drifting, in her own home.
Life just happened, and there wasn't a thing she could do to prevent it. Well one, she'd been down that road. All that ended up accomplishing was more people in her life. More people to exalt on 'the ways of life' and how being normal was simple.
Simple.
The corner of her eye a postcard peeked out of the pile of mail. Picking it up and staring, frozen at the picture on the front.
Causing her to throw it back down. She paced the floor of the kitchen, back and forth. Never taking her eyes off of the pretty picture, as if it would leap out and squeeze her throat, choking the life from her.
Her hands went up to her throat, she gently rubbed, soothing pain that wasn't there.

"oh you are just being silly. What harm can it be?", speaking loudly. Loud to no one but herself and her muse. Her palms were sweaty, wiping them off on her robe, she once again picked up the postcard. Running her fingers over the picture, lifting it to her nose. Inhaling deeply, that by chance she could somehow smell the sender.
Flipping the postcard, the familiar scrawl, the slant to the right.

"Just a note to say hello, after all of these years. Something about London just brings YOU to mind. Wanted you you to know that I was thinking of you. Will be back in states come the end of the month. Maybe we can get together? ~ Andrew Ruth"

YOU. Why was it capitalized? A gasp spurred from her lips, "A month, when...", looking closely at the postmark and hastily grabbing the calendar. "Oh no. No no no...that's next week!"

Her mind buzzed. A week and he would be...Nah it was just words. Just a cordial hello. The city reminded him of her and he just dropped a note. People say 'let's get together all the time. They don't mean it.
What if HE did?

Those old stirrings in the pit of her stomach had begun to stir. Soon, they would be in her brain, knocking on the door of opportunity and vulnerability.
No. He can't come here. He can't see what she had become. So far from normal. SO far from that girl that triggered a memory.

She tossed papers, shuffled through the piles on her desk. Lifting notebooks off the old keyboard. Finding the one she had sought, filled with scribbles and numbers.
Tracing down one page, muttering names out loud.
"Aha, here it is Avery Gray! 555-0825."

"555-0825, 555-0825", she kept repeating, until she could find the phone. Her life appeared to be in such disarray. Flipping objects, finding the base, no phone. Reaching into the chair cushions, nothing. She continued to repeat the numbers. Standing the middle of the room, searching in her mind where the phone could be.
"Aha", leading her to the kitchen and opening a drawer. There was the phone. Hidden away.

555-0825, she pressed the numbers hard, waited. "Tsk, damn answering machine."
"Hey Avery, its me. Wish I had caught you. I was wondering if you'd want to meet me. I ummm, I know its been a real long time. But I, uh...Andrew contacted me and I could really just use some company. I will be in town, we can meet at the cafe? Around 2? Okay, I hope you get this. See you there."

Around noon she had begun to get ready. It doesn't usually take her that long to get dressed and throw a face on. She really could care less what people thought of her and her appearance. This was different. First she needed the time to convince herself to go. Secondly, she didnt want Avery to have an inkling that she was falling of the edge again. It was all about appearance. Or so she thought.
Staring back her, a face of woman who had lived far too long. It showed.
Letting out a big sigh, as she finished with placing mocha liptsick on dry lips. "You really have let yourself just sink to the bottom of hell, haven't you?"
Slamming the mirror, she skipped out to the kitchen grabbing her purse, her keys and a book,"Bliss in Bloom", to read while she waited on Avery.

Headed down the boulevard, familiar places and many not so familiar. Reaching the end of the boulevard, her eyes squinted. She didn't see the cafe. Had it closed? Parking her car, stepping out onto the street, the sun so bright, her eyes hurt. Why does it appear more painful here?
Squinting, looking down the street. THe shops all quaint, redone to look old. To give an appearance of a village. "Its all in the appearance", she said out loud.
Signs hung out from buildings, none she recalled. Searching for the words, Cafe Leone. As she walked she was looking up, and very confused and amused by the distance she had put in between herself and this reality right here.
Five miles is all it took.
Five miles between her world and this world.
Preferring her world.

Something I do to get those creative words flowing once again. All characters, places and 'things' are pure fiction and do not represent or characterize any living persons as real. With exception to the link to the real person's space in the blogosphere...Chap Two coming.
The idea is to use everyone's link I have in my sidebar. It usually takes a few chapters...THis would be the third I have done.

For a blurred look in from the other side of the window go here!

Spilled over...

2008-03-08T07:28:00.002-05:00

In my line of work(jack of all trades, master of none), I have the responsibility to provide grief counseling.
During one of the sessions, I had a moment of clarity. Brief, yet still evident. SO much so that it was apparent I had stumbled on my words.
I wanted to run from the room and scream and share all the thoughts that just screamed to be let loose.

And I had to sit back and let them claw at my skull.

this was early in the career, and I had been struggling with how can I give this respite to those in need, when I don't have these answers?
When the need to be professional struggles with the want of being me. The impulsiveness just wanting to let it rip and say, "Life sucks...Life isn't fair....fuck it".... Alas, I am a good doobie and maintain my decorum.
I can spew it out like all the rest .... I can muddle my way through a heavy session with a woman who is dx with severe PTSD{rightly so... I so admire her drive to live and to move forward} and yet all the while I say and I do, all these wonderful implementations of intervention, and I don't believe a word of it.
the voice in my head, begins with a whisper, then the tone gradually escalates to where it screams, "What the fuck Jodi, you don't buy this bullshit do you? She doesn't give to rats ass about finding the positive in her day. Are you freakin listening to her?"

Wanting to be "The Fixer" ... Counseling became unbearable...Frustrating as all hell that I couldn't fix them. They didn't want to be fixed. They wanted to sleep and wake up and be Cinderella and all would be wonderful in the land of fairies and trolls.
Bah!

This is why I went into behavioral science.
This is why I am burnt.

This is where I sit today, wondering where the hell am I going now?
Now, just isn't jiving with me lately.

Life is in a flux at the moment. Being the freak that I am and one that can not function when the stability in my life is off kilter{like me}... Everything else slides down with it...

I am the epitome of an Impulsive Procrastinator .... Get back to me when you get that ...

Utilizing some of my own wisdom within my own meditation, I remember that the paths all lead to one. No, I may not have a blonde clue what it is at this very moment, yet in reality? How many of us really do? Truly.
This road isn't so bad...a little bumpy, a little curvy, I have wonderful shock absorbers.

Life is way to short when I get there I get there... I will enjoy the view from this window, cracked or not... Still MY perception...

Peace

Thank you Heather!

A peek into...15 seconds of my life

2008-03-06T07:29:00.004-05:00

The dawn of a new day. The air swirls with a freshness, deep, long breathes filled with capacity. A rush of air pushed from lungs. The smell of java and dirt mixed. Lost within images that just float.
In and out.
A sweet mixture of impending spring with the oldness of the past season.
Past.
Season.
Bittersweetness dips on my tongue.
Reflections of the life lived. Seasoned.
Photographs.
Filled with smiling, familiar faces.
So carefree. So Lost, yet in love with the thought.
Inhaling the stretch of Mother Earth's awakening. Longing for her to wrap her arms about us, tightly.
And never,
Ever
Let go.

Images
Of a seasoned life.
Seeing. Feeling. All there was trapped within, for eternity.
Mine.

THe music of the day, awakened before the sun. Life outside, beckons for one to just run through the fields. Rejoicing in the moment of being here.
Sullen, today.
Life moves, it heaves. As trucks rumble on a distant highway ... going ...
Where?
Somewhere.

Quietly meandering through the morn.
Cherishing it.
Upon entering a door, life engulfed, busy with routine, I bent to awake my mother.
Images, flashed before me. I hesitate, and halt all together. I stood over her, just to watch her sleep. To hear her breath. Lost within the memory of a child at five, playing with her mother's hair as she slept. A mother who carried all the beauty this child could ever want, and possess. The child watched her in awe.
That child stood above the mother this morn, still in awe.

Time has a new meaning as of late.
A sudden importance. The realizations of where I stand in relation to Father Time.
The path, as I gaze out along the muck, the cobblestone smoothed over the years, appears to move forward endlessly...reaching out to the ends of the earth.
It does not.
The horizon moves closer... sneaking and stealth.
I have become more aware, more than usual.
Not just of the minutes, the hours or the days. Not of just the time well spent, well wasted or just gone from the pages.
Or the evidence of time that gazes back from a reflection.

My surroundings.
The trees, the sound, the smell. THe cracks in the sidewalk at my mother's home.
Images, again.
Children; laughing. Frolicking. Teenagers sitting, contemplating life, the future.
The future stares back now.
And then, as quick as it came, the images fades, blurs back to that woman, standing there, staring at the pavement.
Voices of a past life. Giggles. Tears. Shed here on this very spot.
Prom pictures, baptismals, weddings, graduations ...
funerals.

A noise distracts me from these moments, calling me back to now.
From the window:
A child waving
A mother standing behind her, staring, through my very soul, as if she knew every thought I just relived...
Stare back in wonder .... Does she relive them too?
I smile, turn to leave, return to the clutter of life and stop again, to look back into her eyes ...
A slight smile to push the cheeks, stopping the tears ...

Still in awe... '143'

*Edit: A Quote I found in hindsight: "There are no choices. Nothing but a straight line. The illusion comes afterwards, when you ask 'why me?' and 'what if?', when you look back and see the branches, like a pruned bonsai tree, or a forked lightning. If you had done something differently, it wouldn't be you, it would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions."- ????

My 2 Cents....(worth a bout a penny cost 4 cents to make)

2008-03-03T19:46:00.006-05:00

And here is where I depart from the 'norm" for this space. Alas I could not just let it go and not get my 2 cents out there...take it as you may.

One who pops in here occasionally or even frequently would never know it, but I am a very political minded individual. Always have been. Not just from an OPINION stand point, but the subject on the whole. Right up there with my views, my feelings on religion.
Truth.

My feverish following of our government took full choke hold on me, as it did for many, within minutes after 9/11.
The poli sci was always a part of my life, my Father was a local councilman, and I have even met a few "higher" ranking State officials. Yippeee!

Then "W" decided, to twist and pull and insert fear into the American Spirit. And we (not I) Americans and our system voted the man back into office.
A bruise to America on so many levels. I observed even his own Party backing away slowly.
The choke hold gripped even tighter. I have surfed the conspiracy theorists sites, I have surfed all ends. Some I can agree with, some go against every bit of common sense, I hold dear.

This election is historic. I will not go into the why's and all the statistical jazz. There are better sites and blogs with all the dedication to it.
I am speaking from my little old opinion-what I see and have seen in the last four years. (I know there are eight whole, just the apparent downward spiral of doom became more apparent in the last four, to me.)

What has spurred this post? I have watched every single Democratic debate. I have watched all the analysis of the debates. Etc..etc...etc.
Last week, Obama made a speech, another empowering speech. One he has been(once again) over analyzed, over critiqued for even uttering. Chris Matthews of Hardball on MSNBC(Who I like very much as a Journalist mind you) thought that Obama went a bit off topic during the speech, where he spoke to parents about education and not only in the schools yet at home.
Mr Matthews asked if this was an appropriate speech...some he asked agreed that it was off topic and was more of an admonishment.
I have to disagree....
And here is my answer to why:
If we choose to believe Ms Clinton that Obama is just a good speech writer and orator then yes its off topic. I dont feed into that notion, by far. I have sat back, amongst millions, and watched our country crumble. People are having a difficult time just maintaining, and it isn't going to get "all better" soon. I watched as we "rocked the vote" back four years. We pushed and pushed to get the younger generation out to vote. They did.
The system failed. I heard many say that it was a waste of time. That it did not truly mattered that they voted. They had become disenfranchised.
We had now created a bigger gap...and what was learned?
The economy crumbles and continues to do so. (side note: This rebate/refund-that will have to be claimed is not free people- is not going to do a damn thing for the economy. It will not solve anything, it will not rescue anyone. It is a temporary notion. People will pay off bills or buy something. Thing, singular. It will not spur anyone to buy more or create a trend. There will be an influx of a month or so. Whoopty freaking doo. Nada, people it does nothing. If I saw this moment happening, and I know many others did, as I read about it back a few years, that is the time when something shouldve been done. )
Anyhooo----
Then the War. Somewhere we should have never been nor should we continue to be there. I am an intelligent lady, I also understand the realities of where we are currently. Shame on Bush.
A combination of where we stand today, money woes, housing woes, NAFTA, outsourcing,and education, snowballed and began to bring back those who were disheartened four years ago.
These then 18-26 yr olds, watched as their jobs went away, the beautiful house went away, their parents started to lose everything they worked for, and an education they desired go away.
American dream?
What is that, today?
Can Hillary run the country? I am sure she can do so. Does she have some good plans for education? Health Care? The War? I have heard her speak, she does. Day one? Sure.
Is she inspiring? Does she set the tone?
I don't think so.
Mr Matthews criticized Obama. That the speech appeared out of place. See I think many people are missing the point.
I think Obama can do all that I listed above, as good or even better than Hillary. I do.
What this country needs, is not just a CEO in the White House. No. Not to battle the parties,No. We need someone to bring people together.
Yeah to inspire.
People need to feel empowered to help themselves, to feel they have been heard, to feel that they elect officials, and that they made the right choices. That it is not the same old government. That they are a part of the system. Not the Us and Them attitude that our government currently is all about-
The point of that speech is to inspire individuals, that they can do for themselves, and that their government will do right by them. Its a give and take world. Gotta give a little to get a little.
That is the point. Setting a tone.

Inspiring people and empowering people is not a bad thing. Its what people are looking for- that someone is giving them permission to do what is right by them and all the people.
IS that so awful?
No, yet it is against the NORM we have come to know as American Politics.
It is time for a change.
It is time to feel a part of something. It is time to be empowered. We hold that key. WE DO.
We vote.
We can move and shake it. We need to be together as a people. And not just take it because the government says so.
We elect them. We pay them. WE need to feel inspired to make changes, to be the ones empowered and involved.
The elected officials do what they do, as WE don't call them on it. It is time we did.
I have grown tired of talking heads of government, who say what they say and never answer the questions.
Inspire people to make change!
Is that so wrong?
Vote for who you want, I am not making a case here about pushing an agenda. Truly I am not.
I am critiquing the critique.
An objective view from a bystander. Pointing out the missed message. That is all.

(more to come-I'm not done)

I buy No Words...

2008-03-02T08:05:00.005-05:00

When in a funk, one can(and does) revel in the muck for a time. Then the funk gets old and stanky, and one must pull oneself up and out.

I went to the bookstore.
oooooooooo....ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh....

Bookstores, libraries are heaven to me. I can walk around for hours. Picking, flipping through, reading the front cover, back cover, the inside sleeves and the last paragraph of the last chapter.
I asked the Teen if he wanted to go. I am lucky in a sense that all of my children LOVE bookstores as much as I do.

We wandered about, he headed for the Comic/Magna section, I begin at the beginning. What's new, what is now new in paperback, what is recommended and then so on.

I ran into my son about 30 minutes later, his face lit up, "Mom! Look at this book!"
He flips through, and repeats over and over, "Look! Just look!". So I did what a good parent does, and I looked.
I gave him the "Yeah?" look and wondered aloud,"It's a book on guitars."
"Not just guitars Ma, all guitars." nodding his head.
I nodded back.
"How much?"
"I dunno, I don't want it, I just want to look at it."
"So then look at it."
"I am. Look!"
I wandered away and left him to his joy.
Stopping by the cookbok section, it has been quite sometime since I bought a new cook book. A real long time. Thinking back now, I'd say since the internet has engulfed my life. A book on crockpot recipes caught my eye, and I flipped through.
See I not only talk to my Television, I talk to books. Not a care in the world, if people are around even. As I turned the pages, looking at the recipes, I knew I didnt want this book. Cakes in a crockpot? I mean I can't spare an hour, that I would have to cook it all day? The picture didn't look as appetizing either. Blech. Next...Corn ont he Cob? I mean really? Corn in a crock pot? It takes 20 minutes...I need to cook it all day? Yuk...Book went back to its home on the shelf, with all the other unappetizing selections. Move along little puppy.
I went back to the paperbacks, and still nothing was grabbing me. I wandered to history, eh a few books, but nothing that leapt out and screamed for me to buy them.
I then looked about and saw the Teen on the floor reading, yes another guitar book.
"Ma, they have tabs for Slipknot, Korn and a few others!"
"Cool."
"Even SRV!"
"Dad has all the tabs for SRV."
"But still...they have Slipknot."
"Yeah and? You are going to buy a book for 50 bucks for 4 tabs?"
"Its not just four tabs Mom...geesh"
"K, I am going over here."
I began to wander over to the journals, he called out,"Find anything?"
"Yeah I found a lot. I think there are way too many choices here."
He only chuckled, "Too many?"
"Yeah. I am in overload at the moment, so I am going to go over there and buy books with no words."
Three different people standing in the vicinity turned to look at me, I just gave them the "Wha?" Look.
The irony. I go to a bookstore, to buy books(one hopes)-and I buy books with no words.
Two in fact.
Then it happened. I found myself holding eight books. Talking to myself. (Yes I am that crazy woman you all see). Now I had to make decisions, which one(s) to purchase.
I went with Keith Olbermann, "Truth or Consequences"-Special Comments, cause I ♥ Keith and his Special Comments.
(So far so good-how could it not be? Its the book form-transcript-like- of his show! And a good slam on "W" is just good in my world!) And at the moment I am very politically motivated-which may be part cause of why my words aren't flowing here or anywhere. I huge departure from the norm. As far as my written word goes.
Second I picked up "Wicked" the story of the Wicked Witch of the West and how she came to be.
Third and lastly "No Country for Old Men"- as I want to see the movie, but prefer to read the book first. It is highly unusual for me to pick up anything that is on a best sellers table. Highly. I usually go for classics reprinted or just really obscure authors.
There are two more that I want and put down and picked up three more times. I am drawn to them-which means I will be going back to get them.
"Hope's Boy" by Andrew Bridge and
"Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger's", written by John Elder Robison, brother to Augusten Burroughs(Running with Scissors).
I just wasn't in the mood for heart wrenching memoir, that would enrage me and hence move me. Just have to be in the right mind set. I will though- I will.
The Teen hemmed and hawed on buying yet another Poe collection, I did the same on Grimm's Fairytales and even a beautifully bound Lewis Carroll....
Sigh...see too many choices, I want them all.

Yet I would leave with five, three with words, two with out.
The Teen left with Tarot cards(see I feed into to that bad behavior) not just any...Alistair Crowley's...oooooooooooo...I think he left unsatisfied though, as they didn't have blank Guitar Tabulature journals- or more so the dude trying to help us didn't have a clue what they were, even arguing it was sheet music that he sought. It's not, good ol' internet will help with that, I suppose.

The world is all good at the moment. Now pardon me, I have some words to read...

Writing outloud

2008-03-01T10:14:00.003-05:00

Jessie: Mama, I know you used to ride the bus. Riding the bus, and it's hot and bumpy and crowded and too noisy, and more than anything else in the world, you wanna get off. And the only reason in the world you don't get off is it's still fifty blocks from where you're going. Well, I can get off right now if I want to. Because even if I ride fifty more years and get off then, it's still the same place when I step down to it. Whenever I feel like it, I can get off. Whenever I've had enough, it's my stop. I've had enough. -From 'Night Mother by Marsha Norman

In that one speech, holds so many truths. So many it should scare people. It should make people look within themselves a truly know what they think. THEY think. Not what they have been taught. Not what the best friend of the year thinks, no, what dwells deep within that gray matter.
What may stop some one from taking the "low" road, is the pain they think of, of who is left behind. The sorrow from our actions. That is what is left.
And yet truly, there is nothing left. Nothing.
Just moments. Left in some one's memory.
The smell of their skin after a shower. Their laughter, the snicker while reading the paper.
How they would answer a question, depending on the mood. A memory.
Out of those memories come fits of anger. Not having that last word, not saying what makes you so pissed off that some one could be so damn selfish and take that stop. Get out off the ride for it is no longer fun.
How dare they.
This was one of my most favorite plays.
In reading reviews, there are people who want to ban it from ever being shown again. Why?
It scares people.
It reaches in where no one wants to venture. No one dare. It reaches those emotions that sink to the very pit of who we are, and just how easy it could be to walk away.
Selfish.
And yet, if I may indulge a thought, is it us who sit back. Those who are left behind that are selfish? That we want...we need...we insist they stay and endure something...they no longer find to be of worth?
Is there a fine line we walk? That the very notion of waking up, is painful?
That today or tomorrow, fifty years makes no difference?
A year ago...I sat in this spot. Contemplating, what makes me, what drives me to need, to want to be here.
A year ago this week, I sat staring out at the snow, the blur of white led to a path of finding some truth in the wonder.
A year ago, began a descent into a personal sorrow. It had begun and carried through until The month of June.
A triple murder-suicide, and then a suicide, ending with a death deemed accidental.
Sorting through the why's came to a conclusion there is no answer. No truth that lies there for me to grasp onto and embrace. No justification that I can seek and find.
Its not mine to own.
It thrusts one into the act of acceptance, whether we truly do or not.
To move on, cause damn it...I want to see the yellow orb, I want to play in the snow and all to hell I want to hear, to taste and to feel laughter, anger and sorrow...even if it is hell for the next fifty years. Damn it I will go out when it comes to the time of doing so.
Sigh...so why.
Why does it haunt a person?
What makes them so brave? Or is cowardice...
How does one go through the planning, and the drive to truly be the one who plays their God?
Why is it one can sit in that very spot and have the ability to see through their own tears and walk away....To get so filled with anger that they would never reach that spot once more.
Having sat in the same contemplation of brutal reality, having sat in the same damn spot of wondering if....and walk away pissed and anger driven need to exist.
What is that fine line of differences that enables one to walk through the fire and come out unscathed and another to implode?

Written by me at the age of 12:

"...Sitting in Bassdales with my parents bursting into tears was not a good thing to do, I guess. I couldnt explain why to them. My head hurt and my heart just filled with a sad I cant say why. I wanted to know why he killed himself. Only a year older than me. His brother found him, and he took it all away. Not from him but his brother. All I could think of how could being 13 be that bad? I dont want to be 13 if that is what it is about. School was horrible today. Everyone looked like zombies. No one was there, not really. Just want someone to say why..."

Even then 12 year old Jodi wanted to understand. For just one person to explain why. Then she could go on her merry little way with the knowledge and the an answer. No one has yet to do so. 30 years later and this one human act just boggles. Sends one off to a loop of thought that, just circles about in an endless curiosity that feels just plain and dark. And smells of musty earth.

And do we all walk that line of obscurity?

Waiting....

2008-02-27T09:26:00.002-05:00

I want to write.
A no brainer eh? Yet no, you dont understand. I want to write, and to find that one thing that will keep you here, and you will nod and agree, or even shake your head and tell me I am whack. I want to write the words that pound against my skull in the middle of the night. I want to share them with all of you. And I can't.

Its not for lack of words. Or lack of interest on my part. Its not a writer's block, never has. It is setting the bar so high for myself, in this tiny little world here, and it makes no sense at all. None.
It should not matter what I write.
Nor should it matter if anyone gets it.

I want to write here and I just can not.
I have 15 drafts.
Fifteen. Filled with words and thoughts, pulled from my very brain.

There is darkness in the words. Not all, yet some.
I have not been in my studio since November.
NOVEMBER!
I have not picked up a brush since. I havent sketched.
My two novels, sit. Maddening cursors, waiting.
Mason and Jezzy await me to fulfill their destinies. TO end their lives or to make them go on into the proverbial sunset.

I have Megan, waiting for those thirty pages of script. Her voice. Thirty minutes of her non existent life. Waiting for me, ME, to place the words in her head, so that she can tell her dirty little secrets.
I have a Winter scene, waiting. Blinking endlessly mercilessly. Whispering in my head. Mason and his little girls, and the woman who seeks to be loved. That world sits as dusty as the plain it is set in.
Christian Freeman, is not yet free. The darkness of his life, sits in perpetual la la land. Waiting for a writer to complete it for him.
No worse for wear is the world of Commonality. Three friends, frozen. Just waiting.

Mark and Lynn, what of them?

Its not for the voices dont echo. Its not that the words are not there.
Its not even about time.

My creativeness is just not here.
I bang it, bang it, bang it...to the point I am really bashing my fuckin head up against a wall, that just doesnt exist.
Maybe I dont want to. Maybe I just sabotage every little nuance of my own blurb of life, that continuing on means some kind of end. That my creation of them, and keeping them where they are is my control of keeping them inside. That if I were to finish them, complete what I had begun and to give it a creedence, some truth, then they would all go away?
Cause I am not sure it is all about fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of my words being sold so another can take them and do as they wish. It is not a fear of argument, for my thoughts are not clear, or always on the path to societal desires.
I dont care.
I write cause I do.
I paint cause I do.
I think....nice try I wasnt going there....
It is a natural process, as in breathing, for me, and it drives me insane. My muse has left for warmer climate, leaving me here to battle my own defenses.
Exactly.
Worlds and realms lost and empty. Stagnate.
Waiting....

2008-02-25T19:26:00.002-05:00

There is a Rhino in my head...

2008-02-23T07:09:00.004-05:00

rhi·no·vi·rus ( P ) Pronunciation Key (rn-vrs)n. pl. rhi·no·vi·rus·es
Any of a group of picornaviruses that are causative agents of many disorders of the respiratory tract, such as the common cold.

Damn bugger.

Yeah looks all cute don't he? Well he can be all cute somewhere else. Ugh.
This little uninvited guest has overstayed his welcome.
How much 'stuff' can one person's sinus cavity actually hold? My word! So if you didnt put all that jabber together, I am sick. This little post is going to be short, as the very act of typing hurts my head. Which feels as if it is going to explode and my eyes are going to just drop out of my head and roll away. My eyes have never hurt like this...
Can I bitch anymore?
So dont count me out, just count me resting...and watching endless amounts of news and having strange dreams. All induced, I believe, by Generic Nyquil.
*EDIT: I will on the couch, watching TCM and the Alfred Hitchcock run of film they are treating me to(yes me!)
Be back soon!

& drugs&chicken noodle soup

Observations Front Row:

2008-02-22T16:40:00.002-05:00

Karen: "Hey Tish, I needed to ask you something, lucky me you came down."
Tish: "Lucky you."

Karen:"I tried printing out that list of meds I was telling you about? The one with the seizure medications? You remember?"
Tish:"Yep"
Karen:"Well I tried printing it and it cut off half the page."
Tish:"Did you copy/paste it? And then resize it in word?"
Karen:"Well no. Can you?"
{Trying desperately not to roll her eyes}
Tish:"Just email me the link, I can get it from there.
Karen:"Well I would but it is password protected. It's from a Nursing site."
Tish:"Ah"
Karen:"Well I could give you the password"
(beat)
Karen:"If it doesnt bother you. The password, is Christian. That isn't going to offend you is it? I mean having to type Christian?"
Tish stood there, blank. Unable to even speak. Unsure of what she just heard.
Tish:"Excuse me?"
Karen:"Well, I mean, not to offend you. Did I just offend you? I know how you feel about Christians."
Tish:"Oh? You do?"
Mary looks up from the paperwork she was pretending to complete. Looks at Tish.
Tish:"Maybe I should explain, I am not a practicing...I have my beliefs, I lean more towards Buddhism."
Mary:"Buddhism? heh, is that really even a religion?"
Karen:"Tish you know what I meant."
Tish:"Um sure..."
Karen:" I mean with the whole Wiccan, or whatever you call it- non-Christian values-"
Tish:"I do NOT have non Christian values. Thank you very much. As a matter of fact I have strong values. And a deep rooted moral system. One filled with certain qualities. Some would even go as far as calling them Christian."
Karen:"Well I didn't mean- Did you need something?"
Tish:"Nah I am all set."

Tish walks back to her office, her mind in a swirl. Unsure of the conversation that occurred.
Unsure of where she wanted to take this whole conversation. Sitting at her desk, she begins to type. Pauses and chuckles at the screen.
Leaning back in her chair, turning to gaze out at the snow as it falls against the Japanese Lace Maple outside. Her smirk etched, she could see her cheeks.
Devilish thoughts.
Tell me I have no Christian Values. Just because You label your life and I chose not to do so. I don't cling to one theology as my savior. I don't cling to a broken twig. I don't abide by your norms. No. I have a strong belief system, yet you wouldn't know that or understand that. As you have professed that any other religion besides yours is wrong. What was it you said two months ago? Hmmm Did the worlds "Devil Worship" accidentally slip from your tongue? I would suppose you didn't mean to offend me then either. Not that you really need to know. No that I really need to explain to YOU or to anyone. I was brought in a strict Catholic home. Many of my values and my beliefs today are born from that- I will give you this. Yet shall we go into the rhetoric of where these values came from? Shall we? Nah I thought not.
Tish leans back more, and a glimpse of crystal sparkles, catching in the corner of her eye.
Focused now, her lips purse.
Her fingers wrap around, the only rosary in the building.

Tish leans back to her desk, looks up at her monitor. The cursor blinks. Maddening.
Should I? Shouldn't I?

Typed:

ChristianChristianChristianChristianChristian
ChristianChristianChristianChristianChristian
ChristianChristianChristianChristianChristian
ChristianChristianChristianChristianChristian
ChristianChristianChristianChristianChristian
ChristianChristianChristianChristianChristian
ChristianChristianChristianChristianChristian
ChristianChristianChristianChristianChristian
ChristianChristianChristianChristianChristian
ChristianChristianChristianChristianChristian
ChristianChristianChristianChristianChristian Karen-lightening has struck me yet, and guess what? It didn't offended me to type it! Who woulda thunk? ~Namaste

Tish is happy that she has the rest of the week off...Enough time to prepare for the onslaught.

Yeah so anyways....
As you can all tell I am having quite the identity crisis with my blog lately. Kind of a love hate, hate ...hate, eh kinda like it again.
More Randomly: My Front porch- well, I am not quite sure how to describe it. Bluntly? Full of carnage. Yes.
I think my cats belong to some kitty cult. There were five(5) heads, a body-yes headless, only one though, and entrails.
Field mice.
They aren't so cute.
There is even a dried pool of blood. I wondered if it was used for War Paint?
Even little footie prints.
A little Kitty CSI going on.
Now what makes this even more "ironic"
I have really tall cupboards. To the ceiling tall. We have 9 foot ceilings. So, when I have to retrieve something up high, I have to grab a chair.
So I did this.
To my horror, i found...
No not the missing bodies.
Little presents.
Yeah...as in, sh*t I think we have mice. Or sh*t I bet the cats brought them in!
Three cats.
THREE!
And now I have mice? Is there a cat union I can talk to?
We are living the real life Tom and Jerry, I just know it.

So my thoughts ramble on today...I wish I could post here the daily goings on, yet I fear dear people it would bore you to tears. Life in my little world is not, exciting, its just life. Oh I am quite content yet to write the events of a life- well, that just moves and has it wildly funny moments, or moments of stupidity observed from this chickie, just wouldnt excite you. Or is just too damn hard to place in this medium.
I wish I could.
I am cranky today can you tell? Not feeling it today. Not feeling up to snuff period.
So I will post this...and well I will probably remove it, after I clear the head of this illness+crankiness.
Pardon my slack.

rock on with your bad selves....
The pagan

Clippings...

2008-02-20T20:04:00.008-05:00

Gazing into ...deep and far away. The day had begun, A day once thought, in dreams, to never come to fruition.
The Mirror told no lie. Spoken truths between eyes.
One looking in, One looking out.
The sun peered through the drawn cover. Seeking to find some warmth upon the reflection.
Maybe to warm a soul.
Thoughts lead back, as the silver of hair, glistens on the slight,
the bright light.

Silver hair, now possessed, of wisdom of years.
The looked out, although the sun yearned to be embraced,
Clouded with a gloom.

Tucked in the corner of the looking glass, a piece of yellowed paper.
Placed in a time when youth saw no end. When children ran amok, in the halls. When echoes of laughter filled the wee hours, and hushes came from pursed lips.
A time when no thought, of today.
The words, no beckoned to be read:

Notice: I am the most heartbroken person in the world. I could always find the time to go everywhere else, but never time to go visit Mom and Dad. They sat home and loved me just the same. It's too late now to give them those few hours of happiness. I was too selfish and busy to give. Now when I go to their graves and see the green grass above them, I wonder if God will ever forgive me for the heartaches I must have caused them when they were alive. I pray to God that those who still have their parents to visit do so and show their love and respect while there is is still time, for it's later than you think, ~ TOO LATE

The words rang through, slowly. One letter at a time. Having read this over the years, having tucked it away, in plain sight.
Word found many years ago, tucked away in a bible. The Bible of a woman who held onto her regrets, and wished never upon another.
The words fit in many ways. Words upon a yellowed clipping.
Seeing with eyes that tasted many years. Drank in all that life could serve.
Withered eyes, looking in, as younger glare out.
Days gone by. Years folded. Memories fade.
And yet regret never leaves. True regret rarely does.

In moments the years run by, scratched photos, one by one. A girl and her youth. A women in her bitterness.
Lost relationships, conveniently walked away ...sauntered away from, in fact.
Self preservation! She would mutter.
To relieve oneself of the emptiness of negativity.
To release the obligation, and save her own mind. SOmetimes we just do.
We needed to.
Justification.
Of stagnation.
Lost within the reflection. In that girl who looks back.
Would that be me.
Would I stand aside a dirt covered grave, wondering IF I had only,
If I...
Why I?
That day had come. To stand alone, surrounded by the distance of people.

A distant horn.
And a snap back to now.
One last look at the face, the girl had gone. Tucked away.
Up in the corner...yellowed.
Just a clipping.

A push of the hair and look of completion, satisfactory appeasement of age.
Running with time.
And it had come.
Time had come, to hear the answer of the wondering.
To lay that last flower, to say those last words.

To tuck it.
Once more.

*a rambled on thought...unedited...backstory: The Clipping is real, When my grandmother passed away, I found it in her Bible. And there was another tucked in her bedroom mirror. I keep mine tucked, now in the corner of a picture frame. It had become to damaged in the bathroom. The words ring truth, one we mustn't forget. I hold them close, and not just with parents, yet with siblings and those we truly love. For there will be the inevitable day, it is a fact. Not one to perseverate, or keep up front at all times. Yet it should never be forgotten.

Anyone ya need to call?

Breakfast at the Jones

2008-02-18T08:09:00.000-05:00

“What goes through that little head of yours?”, he stated quite bluntly. Sitting across from him, she blankly stares, no answer. There is no combination of words that would ever relate to that answer.

The day had begun like every other and yet somehow ended up here.
This spot. This torment of facing yet another moment within her life, she would have preferred be lost out somewhere in the muck.

Or maybe it should have been her in the muck. Letting it seep over her body, sucking her down under. A permanent mud bath.
What a comfort that would be, to feel the heaviness of it all burdened upon her. She found it much easier to deal with that burden than the one that faced her right now.

“Well?”

A simple word he spoke. And yet it reverberated. Bouncing off her skull and creating a tympanic wave that sucked her in deeper.
Deeper into the hell that hath now crept up.
Eyes burned into her, she could smell burning flesh.

Lost. I am lost. Lost in a world so unknown. No one could ever understand. Nor would they want to. It is my hell. Mine alone. There are no winners. I couldn’t even say there were any losers.
It just is.

As I sit before you, I hear your voice. There are no words coming forth. You speak, yet there is no comprehension.

What thoughts linger inside?

If I were to speak of the truths that lie within, I would then be making an admission to not just you or the world, but more importantly to myself.

I am not ready to open that, not willing to save face even if it were to save what had been.

This little head is full.
Full of contempt and anger kept in check by the reality in which I live. Not you.

Stuffed away. Locked and kept from being exposed. There was a life here. Where it is now remains the mystery.

Thoughts fired off. She just sat, completely idle. No expression could emerge.
The table appeared much larger, he was even more distant.

If I were to speak the words that I truly embrace, would you run?

Her voice soft, "Nothing. Nothing at all." He lifted the paper, taking a mouthful of coffee. She could only let out a quiet sigh.

Words #60

2008-02-15T07:01:00.001-05:00

"All things change, yet nothing is extinguished … there is nothing in the whole world which is permanent. Everything flows onwards, and all things are brought into being with a changing nature. The ages themselves glide by in constant movement … for still waters will never reach the sea." - Ovid, Roman Poet 43 B.C.E. - A.D.E. 27

No longer a bird in flight. No longer one to sit back and take it either. I chose to walk, not run, away.

Giving this sage advice to others as well. There are times when we feel our principle has been tainted. When th point takes over the true issue at hand. Exploding out into the abyss, moments with no rewind. Then branded and labeled from that point forward.

Walk away.
Look out at the span of your life. Is it truly worth the incessant bullshit that will spill forth from drama you do not own?

People feed off of reactions. I chose to walk away. Why give them what they want, on my principle? On my perception?

Why bother.
Am I being a martyr? Or slacking off? Hell no. Yet review of what holds priority should and will take precedence over some concerns.
Flushing out the negative, as much as I can filter. Closing certain chapters. Making amends with myself.
Living out a postive existence. It is the only one I have. I will NOT let someone feel the need to impose themselves upon my own realm of life. I own it. Not anyone else.
If my life does not fit another's agenda...so be it.
I walk.
Forward. Refusing to be sucked into the void of 'their' agenda.
Getting angry serves nothing. Feeds the power of the others fire. Stepping out for a second or two, can be a saver of the face. Before one wishes for a rewind or better, a delete button.
Planned ignoring is a wonderful intervention, when implemented correctly and with consistency.

There are just some battles we should be more picky about in the scope of our existence. Does it really matter, will it in a month? A year or five?

When does one begin to live up to their own expectations? Their own standards?
Is everyone else's more important? Do we really think that some of those expectations are free from control?

Sure we need to get our point across, sure we go on the defense. When the hell do we realize it falls on deaf ears?
Talk talk talk until your heart feels content, your mind flushed. If is clarity that you seek, then checking back with your own values and the responsibility to the self should be foremost.
Tally tally tit for tat crap.
Do whats right. Do what is right in your heart. Be freaking honest with yourself.
Not out of obligation or some fictional tab you think you are running. If someone keeps a grand list of their own, I do this for you and that and oh we wont forget that...My word it is time to rethink the whole relationship...No?

If my life is dependent on another living soul, it will not be due to what they do for me. If that is all I got going, then it just isnt worth it, within my scope.
The air clogs easily out in the abyss.
If one makes a choice to not like 'something of' me, so be it. Superficial at it may be. Character flaws?
Many are not going anywhere. Why?
Because I said so, that is why.
Why should they? Riddle me that.
Your agenda+my agenda= a clash of the titans, Thus an ensuing conundrum of drama.
Pfffft...
Thanks I can do with out.

I will not feed into the banter of one upping. I will not feed into the persistence of ignorance. Come at me with facts and we will chat. Otherwise...whoever you are? Just a name, on a list, tucked away...

Peace

I was tagged and had a quote dedicated to me. Awwwwww...Thanks JD!
The above quote, is one of my favorites. Even then...the mindset is now different than that of "modern" day. AlthoughI do believe that Old philosophers were modern beyond their years.
I dedicate the quote to:
Chris: For I think he can find the path in those words, and sit back and nod.
Ender: Ahhh she knows why.
Maria: For I think if you tuck them away and pull them out in those tough moments, it may see you through.
Dan: To give youa bit of strength and peace when you sit to write. To encourage you to keep moving. You got what it takes, I see it, I read it...Now you must.
paisley: I need not say why-she to understands.
Meleah: For all the positive she brings, for all the strides and accomplishments and just for being who she is.
And finally, NewNorth: Who is embarking on a new path.
Really it is difficult to single out people. I would list you all ...as you all deserve a bit of dedication....don't you?

Masks

2008-02-13T11:09:00.000-05:00

We all wear them. Some, we wear all the time. That mask that everyone sees. The ever smiling or arrogant or yes, even "The Bitch". Yet underneath that mask lies another. One no one ever sees. A part of our soul that is ours, that we own and never share. It is within this mask that our deepest desires, yearn for escape. The darkest fears are realized. Behind this mask we find security. It is the safe haven, that place where demons can not reach.

Masks are metamorphic, over time. They grow. At moments they regress. Reflecting back to when this occurred and why. There may never be the answer...Even if there is, do we want it?
We can go years wearing one and never changing it, to come to some clarity that this mask was never removed out of fear. Fear of rejection? Not fitting in? Creating one to be loved? Only to live a lie and to make that admission years later. Seeking to stretch out and be the one that you have secreted away. All the while, the one apparent lives your life. This realm we create around us.
We will periodically change them. Depending on the mood, the day, the situation. As Flava stated, she wears hers in moments when she needs her strength, to be strong for her children.
I find I wear many. Within the scope of a day, I can change 20 times. I am great at keeping myself hidden. Hidden from the world. Hidden from those who believe they know me best. Retreating back into myself. Shutting down. Someone gets too close, I put the mask on...letting them in...is not an option.
I am rarely the me, I know. That mask that hangs under all the others. The mask with no mouth. The mask that is mute. The words never being able to be heard. There is no voice. Yet only through written word am I capable of saying what I truly feel. I have been asked, many times, why I can not use my voice...Why can I not, say it...Why must I write it? If I only knew.
I look in the mirror and the mask changes without my conscious knowledge. As I stare at this image...this woman. This week has been a tough one. I looked at the mirror and saw this person, I did not like. The mind messes with the image...I have a battle of thoughts, the reality{what everyone else sees} and the falseness{What I see}. It has turned out to be a week without mirrors. Only when needed. As in, applying makeup, yet only looking at the eye, or the hair gets twisted and pinned...I don't have to look to do that. Then she goes away. Just as she came. Quietly. And maybe gleeful she has won that battle.
This is what I have lived with for many many years. I have no fear of these masks, anymore. I have accepted them.
I do enjoy the many masks I wear. The sarcastic twit...the compassionate advocate...the star bitten screenwriter...the dreamy cinderella{she gives me hope}, understanding mommy, the passionate woman...the witty jester best friend. The freak. THe goof. The geek.

...all is good in my world. After my self indulgent whiny post previously...

Peace

And the WInd Howled(part Four)

2008-02-12T11:16:00.000-05:00

Into my adult hood, I felt as if I was walking around asking "are you my Mommy?". Everyone, anyone I met, from Northern Maine, and/or had the last name Chamberland(Chamberlain) I would quiz. My heart would skip a bit, my palms would begin to sweat..
Maybe...

Maybe this is THE one.

Alas it has yet to happen.
I have come to terms it may never.

The ride back from Maine and to my world was long. The name nagged at me. As close as my father and I were, this was one subject I rarely broached, the pain of the situation bore vividly on his face.
Time went on, and it sat there. Stuck in the cranium. The feeling deep inside of being different took a turn, a new twist. Was I just comparing this situation with who I was? Did it truly make me different?

I knew then and I know now, the answer is no. It just meant there was a void. One I had hoped my father would pursue.

Years went by and life took its path. I followed. I would get cards for my birthday from my grandmother, with little notes scrawled inside. These cards aggravated me. I was taught to not tell secrets, and here was my world of elders doing this exact notion.

I loved my grandmother, as much as I could. Miles between us and stamps kept us connected. I had wondered where the connection was, the commonality between us. When she passed and my father and I made the trek north, we had time to sit, to talk and to think. My father's drinking had taken a serious turn shortly before this time. Many a night he would ramble on, making no sense. Words would stumble from his lips, "Bastard child","There is no God. No God would let this...." and on and on. My heart would crumble, as I could only sit there and watch this man fall apart. Everything had come to a head.
Our last night in Northern Maine, the last time my father would go home, was the night of his mother's funeral. We sat in her living room, which had an air of heavy regret lingering. I'd watch as he would just gaze about the room. His gaze was driven by some seeking. Seeking of answers. His eyes would stop at pictures on the wall. I'd wonder what he was thinking. Was he back at that time? Was he wondering? All that had just gone away.
He told me information, most I already had known. I am not quite sure when exactly he had found out or had his own suspiscions confirmed. Frank was on his birth certificate. I can assume it was when he enlisted in the Navy and needed the document.

I was bold child and would ask him point blank. Yet he never gave me a true answer. He knew the stories, of the basketball games or the at the store. Yet was it real for him? Was it just a story to appease the man?

For the first time, that night as we sat,he accepted his anger.
He also accepted he couldn't change it.
That night was an eye opener for both of us. On many levels.

A year went by and then I sat next to the man once more. This time his acceptance had come in the form of his own mortality. He would leave us just four months later.
We once again spoke from the heart. Words said, promises made. The newspaper from Northern Maine had come in the mail. There was an obit. for a woman. I didnt recognize the name. My father showed my mother, they passed words in French and then no more.

Curiosity drives me. I scanned the obit and the name blared out from the page: Frank Chamberlain, brother of the deceased. My heart sank. He was still alive. More so he lived only and hour away. An hour away.
My father pushed it aside. Nary a word spoken.
Yet I asked.
He shrugged his shoulders and inquired, "Why?" The heaviness of his own life, and taking moments that he had left at that present time were just more important, than a name.
It hit me then, that is all this man was to my father, a name.
With his passing, went even more of Frank. That image within my head had begun to fade. Although he was an hour, just one away.

Years went by, and then we plugged into the internet age. About 1996. It was archaic by today standards, and the information was not anywhere to be found. Yet I never gave up. 1998 rolled around, and I joined a site to begin my genealogy. A quest in general. To see where we had begun. In January, I found a number.
Ten digits.
My heart raced.
What would I say? What if he hung up on me? What if he denied it? What if there was more to this saga than I was prepared for?
I told my brothers, their reactions, each a bit indifferent. Not understanding why this ate at my very being. I wasn't even sure of the reasons.
Having picked up the phone, having dialed the numbers, having listened to the phone ring.
Once.
Twice.

And then I hung up.
Life pursued me fervently with little boys to attend to, and my own effed up perceptions of the world at this time. The number had become lost.

Summer arrived and I had some time off. I went back to te site, to begin again. This time with another side of the family. Glancing about I noticed an alert. A hit on my search for Mr Chamberlain.

Again my heart pounded, and I clicked the link.
Which led me to the Social Security Death Index.
Death. Index.

His name. His address.
Just an hour away.
And a date.

April 15, 1998.

The date when the image dissolved completely from my consciousness.

I missed the window of opportunity. Maybe it wasn't him. There were an awful lot of Chamberlains, many Franks. Maybe it wasn't. The thoughts perseverated. Frank, would be well pushing 100 now, and conflicting reports if he was ever married or not.
I have gone back into the Census, I have a copy of the one with him listed as a child. And then the following one I have, physically can hold(It is all I have of him...besides his blood) was the year that my father was born.

The internet, being a wonderful tool, has assisted me as much as it can. He disappears and to search Massachusetts Census(that is the last place I know of) is an incredible undertaking. It is not as nicely indexed as Maine and other states.
I have not given up.
I will continue my quest.
To be that one step closer even if it too late in physical form.
I need to see.
To touch, even if it is cold granite.

So many questions, that have died on the wind. Gone forever and no one to answer them.

Secrets hurt.

And yet this yellowed piece of paper,with faded blue ink, faded ten numbers, was still hidden somewhere.

(yes there is more)

Intermission

2008-02-11T07:21:00.000-05:00

Hello-yeah yeah, I know, not fair,eVil, - I hear ya.
But sometimes a story just needs an intermission.
Okay the story doesn't the writer does- I being the writer am taking the opportunity.

There is some business to take care of at the moment.

One: Blogrolling has robbed me of my Joy! If you have come by and the page isn't loading fast enough or my links have disappeared- well it is due to blog rolling. Or the lack thereof.
For the past week blogrolling has been down sporadically. Well I can not deal with sporadic.
So, my other option? Manually code all the links I had(over 100). Now I use blogrolling at 3 other blogs as well. Each with different links.
So pardon me as I do this, hopefully blogrolling will be up soon and I dont have to remember everyone's site, all my resources and I can move quicker.
So if you are not there now, you will be back soo. Wanna help me? Leave your link.
That just might help restore a bit of JOY..

Onward..
Piper, who is a beautiful woman inside and out, was kind enough to give me some Joy and bestowed upon me:
Thank you Piper! Back atcha girlfriend- And a Happy Valentine's to you as well! You live up to your name!

NewNorth tagged me with a book meme:
I am all good with this kind of meme. Why? It's easy. There is a book(s) in every room, so participating is easy peasy-
Rules:
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open it at page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence/ phrase.
4. Blog the next four sentences/ phrases together with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig your shelves for that very special or intellectual book.
6. Pass it forward to six friends

The book:
The Complete Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson Poet Laureate:Original -yep I have an original. It sits here with my original Poe "The Bells". As inspiration for me.

Page 123/fifth sentence:
"But these-what kind of tales did tell men,"- The Piece is from "The Princess".

And lastly-Thank you for your encouragement and comments on the story- that really did just come out of nowhere-and was demanding like a two year old to be written down.
This has led me back to researching and I will update as I find out more info.

I am sure I have been tagged or awarded lovely awards by the wonderful people who stop and read...I know I have. I will make additions to this post as I can, as the day rolls on!

Gotta run

And the Wind Howled(part Three)

2008-02-07T18:28:00.000-05:00

My grandmother was in another room , with her sisters. My Aunt B pulled me aside and in her soft French accented voice, and told me a story.
A story of a young girl, she worked as a clerk at a local store. This girl was full of life and quite charmed with the social end. She embraced life and wanted more than this small rural town. She had met a boy, a clerk at the local grocery store. They had known each other for most of their lives. He was handsome, steel blue eyes, and a rugged build. Yet this girl was not just enthralled with settling down,there was too much to see, so much to live. They had dated for quite some time. Even though her parents were not aware of the intentions of the boy.
Their affair escalated and she had become pregnant in 1930. Her parents forbade her from marrying the man(for reasons that have never been answered. I can assume, societal class or more likely religion) and when the child was born, he was raised my his grandparents. This was so much a secret, this child is listed as one of their 15 children.(I have these records in hand)
The illusion his Aunts were his sisters, his Uncles were his brothers.

I sat a bit confused. Looking over my shoulder at my Uncle R, who could've passed for my father's twin. My eyes darted to my Father, and he so resembled the man...
Oh!
The realization slammed into me, the man, I had known as Grampy was not my Grampy?
And yet he was.

Questions blurted out and my Aunt kindly answered them all. Much to the chagrin of my mother and my other Aunts. Some things, in their minds, should just be left alone.
The rest of the evening I sat and pondered, this story I had been told.
What is my last name?(I know this now)
Why didnt he fight for her?
Why didnt he fight for him?
Wait...he? Who was 'HE'?

What did he look like? was he married? Are there more aunts and uncles, I mean whats a few more.
I so, so so sooooo, wanted to ask my grandmother all these questions and more.
To this day, I wish I had before she passed.
My father spoke of "him", and I have more details. But what of her the woman? Was she cold about it? Her heart, did it break her heart? Did his?
Was she happy all these years?

Did she love "him"?

Or was it just a teenage fling? A mistake?
Where is he now? What, when and why?

The next day Aunt B, approached me, asked me if I wanted to go for a ride. She knew I was burning inside. We drove out to her house, in North Caribou, we sat in her beautiful lodge looking living room. We chatted. For hours. Some of the questions she answered. Some she could not, and cautioned me about mentioning to Grammy.
His name was Frank. Frank Chamberlain(Chamberland). He was a handsome man. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Crystal blue. ( I often wondered where the blond came from, as my brothers were brown).
He wanted to marry my grandmother, but he was not to liking of her parents. That was a popular notion back in those days. Still holding on to old school ways. They forbade him to come around. Threatening him as well.
My Grandmother married three years later and had a son a year later.
Yet my father did not go to live with them.
My heart broke for my father.
She went on, Frank would go to every single basketball game of my father's. He would mingle in the crowd. Yet if one of my father's uncles saw him, they would chase him away.
My father went on to be Maine All State Basketball player. The sport was his passion. He worked at the local A&P. One of his Aunts worked there as well, Aunt A as a matter of fact. One day as she was ringing out a customer and my father was bagging(the right way), she looked over his shoulder, to see Frank, just standing there. Watching his boy.
My father never knew him. Never knew of him.
Not until after he had married and moved away. He never asked. It just was and he didnt want to venture where he should not. He held on to that deep respect. Although it ate at him until the day that he died.
Frank.
My grandfather.
From the day Aunt B., gave me 'some' information , there has not been a day I havent thought about him.
I havent had a moment to wonder of this man.
Who's blood courses through my veins.
Right here. And I havent a clue who he is.

From the age of twelve, there were moments it all made sense, and then moments nothing, nothing held any coherency.
The 500 miles back home riddled on.

The quest had begun...

Part four is coming....

...And the Wind Howled -part Two

2008-02-07T14:15:00.000-05:00

The next morning was no different than any other, when it came to my grandmother. She was a lady of 'old school' thought. We wake up, we eat, we do dishes, we get ready and then it starts all over.
My impression of my Maine relatives is all they ever did was eat, do dishes, and cook.
I knew then , as I sat at her tiny table watching her move about the kitchen, she was just keeping herself busy. Presently able to attribute my neurotic tendencies and relate to hers.
She looked so tiny to me. Looking back now, I would have to say that eating disorders run in my family.
Although the older females were always trying to get us youngsters to eat. NONSTOP...and then turn around and say, "Gerald, Jodi, is a bit chubby eh?"
I would cringe. Quietly inside. Smiling outside.
By today's ethical standards(snark), my generation of parents would either let it slide or bit some one's head off for even saying it.
It was how it was, I came to accept it.

There was a lot to do this morning, as my father and his brothers were off with my grandmother to finalize funeral arrangements.
My mother went visiting with her family. I, I was sent off to a cousin's house.

This is blur, not so much detail. But just nuances. ZZ TOP; "Tush", my cousin played it over and over. My little cousins running amok, getting us tweens in trouble.
People. Oh the People. I have a rather large extended family. If you are from Northern Maine, and an old French family? You have a rather large family.
Cousins that were my mother's age, aunts and uncles, who loved picking on me and getting me to giggle.
My grandmother, in and out for the day.
Come evening I was to walk down to her house, to have dinner with the family.
Frazzled is the only word that comes to mind.
Here is where the world changed for me.
I found myself staring at my Grandmother. Trying to find a connection. To my finger on differences. More so what we held in common besides my father.
My mind, even then, would whir. My attempts at making everything logical, drove me.
Things had to make sense. Things needed justification.
I looked about the table, at my uncles, pausing at each. Then my aunts, studying their faces. Then my mouth would open and the questions would spill.
I didnt have much time with these people. History. I needed it. I wanted, no I needed to know everything about them. They were "FAMILY"...But there were questions never to be uttered.
That night as I lay in bed, one question still banged in my skull.
The wake, the funeral. My first experience with seeing a person in repose. That was a clear memory. Never, ever would that be me. Not for all to see.
I stood in line to kneel at my grandfather's casket, nervous.
Yet not sad.
My cousins rushed passed, crying or eyes red and swollen.
I understood the premise of death.
I just had nothing inside me to let go.

That evening as we sat once again, at the table, all my father's brothers and their wives. Discussing "Danny"(grandfather) and funny stories. Stories that made everyone laugh and then cry.
A voice came from the corner of the kitchen,"How come my father is brothers with them and they have different last names? Why am I an O and they are all T.'s?", the room fell silent and all eyes turned. TO me! Oh my it was my voice that said that. Out loud!
It was a time when one says to themselves,"did I just say that?" I did.
Nary a word spoken, but a hard pinch came to me from under the table.
I could only look at her with a "wha" glance.
My Aunt B spoke up and then it all came out.
The Secret.
The words that shouldn't have to be spoken. And yet Aunt B felt I, and my brothers had a right to know.

...And the Wind Howled...part One

2008-02-06T17:35:00.001-05:00

The Blizzard of 1978.
I remember that event back in the day.
Not just for the massive amounts of snow, the frigid weather and the state shutting down for three days.
No.
It stretches beyond snowmen, snow angels and shoveling for hours on end.

My grandfather, or the man I had thought was my grandfather, passed away. 500 miles away. It might as well had been 5 million.
My Aunt and Uncle had come for Sunday Dinner that day. A typical Sunday dinner of Roast and potato. Gravy, bread, and corn. A side of carrots in water and celery in water.
A small glass of wine at every place setting chased by a 16 oz glass of milk.
There was no reason for a gathering this day. No birthday. No Anniversary. No Holiday.
Just a wonderful afternoon spent with my father's "sister" and her husband. I was quite taken by my Aunt Al. Something about her, I admired. She was all a lady with edges that now appeared a bit burnt.
And I adored her.

The phone rang, about 4 o'clock.
Funny how 30 years later I can remember such detail. With a clarity as if I were sitting there observing it all once again.
My Father's voic, upbeat when he first answered the phone, realizing it was his mother. Then his words changed, he had switched to French and the dining room dropped to a silence, unknown to my twelve year old ears.
In an instant I knew there was something a miss. My father's face went pale. His voice more alarmed, and my mother listened intently. As my Aunt spoke in French, very quickly. To no one in particular. "Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu".
The night ended quickly, as I was shuffled off to my room for the adults to talk. I kept hearing the phone, ringing and hanging up. Ringing. Some talk. Hanging up.
Something about the old rotary phones, they made that certain sound when placed on the "hook".
That evening, my Father nervously watched the 6 o'clock news. A storm was headed in. We needed to leave and leave quick. We had 500+ miles to drive.
Arrangments were made, we would leave early in the morning. Like a gypsy train. All the relatives who had long since moved from Maine. Now one after another, followed.
Hoping to beat the storm.
In the lead car was my Father, My Mother, my brother A and I. A tortuous ride.
The second car was my brother D and his wife and their 2 year old son. Behind them another car with Aunts and Uncles. My grandmother's siblings. And then behind them another car. And one more.
The snow began, and I could see my mother's knuckles turn white as she gripped the arm of the door.
We made it to NH, and then the snow truly had begun to fall.
We made it as far as Houlton, and could not drive any further.
And yet there was the overall feeling of needing to be somewhere. It was important.
I knew the man I had called Grampy had died. I knew.
And yet there was no affect. Nothing.
I thought it queer. I remember as we drove, staring out at this wonderland of white unveiling before my eyes, that I should be feeling something.
Nothing.
We stayed in Houlton for the night, and would eat and rest and begin again.
The next day, against the hotel clerks urging we set out once more. I was in awe of my father's demeanor. The calm that came over him, as he lit one Old Gold after another. No music was allowed, as he had to keep his sense tuned in. His eyes needing to be focused on the eighteen wheeler in front of us, for that is all anyone could see. Those two bright red lights. THe speedometer never read any higher than 20 miles per hour. From Houlton to Caribou. At 20 mph.
The day, in the car seemed an eternity. The whole world, had turn to white. There was no color. Only white. The wind pushed on the car and my father fought back. The further North we went the higher the snow. The harder it fell.
After 8 more hours, for a typical 2 hour drive. We arrived. The snow piled high already.
My mother nearly fainted, upon walking into my grammy's home. There was a rich aroma. Food was on the stove. The pressure cooker shaking madly on the stove. And fresh coffee brewed. The smell of coffee permeated my senses, as my mother poured herself a cup. Asking me if I would like one to warm up. I gladly accepted. Even then.
Her little 4 room home-faux salt box, had been invaded by relatives. They came out from every nook and cranny. Sullen faces. My Grammy tried her best to hold back tears. She spoke softly and in her native tongue. I could only catch bits and pieces. While she insisted we all sit and eat, she had cooked all day.

Il avait fait une promenade. Incertain s'il était tombé et avait une crise cardiaque. Ou a eu une crise cardiaque et est puis tombé. Jambe cassée. Un des garçons de Thibodeau l'a trouvé des papiers de la livraison. Il ne l'a jamais faite à l'hôpital.

He had gone for a walk. Unsure if he had fallen and had a heart attack. Or had a heart attack and then fell. Broken leg. One of the Thibodeau boys found him delivery papers. He never made it to the hospital.

I looked out at the snow, watched as my Gram pointed to the spot he was found. "I told him not to go" My father could only console her. Neither agreeing or disagreeing.
I slept on the couch that evening, listening as my grandmother cried herself to sleep and the wind howled.

{Part Two next And when the wind howled and whispered in my ear}

Hedonist pilgrim I am...

2008-02-04T07:52:00.000-05:00

Alternate Title: It's all Avery's fault.
I was catching up over at Avery's divine slice of blog heaven and she had a test, so I clicked a link, which led to a link and another and so on. What resulted? Was an addition to an already odd post...but I play like that...

In the news this past weekend I learned that I am a mutated human!
Seriously!
My DNA is from a line of mutated genes...from over 6k to 10k years ago.

"A team of scientists has tracked down a genetic mutation that leads to blue eyes. The mutation occurred between 6,000 and 10,000 years ago, so before then, there were no blue eyes.

Originally, we all had brown eyes," said Hans Eiberg from the Department of Cellular and Molecular Medicine at the University of Copenhagen"

Oh my what does this mean?
My "switch" is turned down...I am at the cusp of having brown eyes or having no way to produce melanin...Will I now be shunned? Will I have to run away to some secret school and be called on to save the world?
I always knew there was something odd about me. See I was right. (no snarky comments)

I spent the better part of yesterday, loathing the fact I just could not get to my studio. (It's in my house), and when I finally had a moment-a nap took priority.

Sitting at the table with the Diva after dinner, the children were making fun of their father. He had a pocket full of peanuts(another story another time). The Diva mistook peanuts for the word penis. And the gigles endued. At which time, the Man left the room and stated "It's all yours". Gee thanks. Payback for CJ's Sally question...damn him.
"You have a penis Mom"
"No, no I dont have one. Boys do, girls have vaginas."
giggle giggle
"Yeah and a penis"
giggle giggle
"No, Diva we dont. Only boys do, that is one of those "things"(hey I am flying off the cuff here) that makes us different. Boys and girls.
"Penis"
"Diva, stop giggling"
"I can't its a funny word"
"Well yeah I guess it can be- wait a minute, Diva..."
"I dont want to talk about it anymore. I get it Mom."
Off she went. Left me there a failure at having an educated discussion with a six year old. Left me to my thoughts. And my own secret giggles. It is a funny word. Brings visuals---ew stop!
Which brings me to my theory men should never run around nekkid. Its wrong, jus wrong.
I, in my youth and stupidity(and drunk) agreed to go to a nude beach. I am sorry there is nothing worse than seeing grown men, naked playing volleyball. On the beach.
It is just fundamentally wrong. Wrong.

I dont think I can save this post from delving further into debauchery.

To go any further would be inherently wrong. Its all wrong today jus wrong.

SO I will, cuz I live on the edge:
I took a jaunt about blogthings(Avery's fault). Yanno that place where all your questions that you ever wanted to know about yourself are answered. Things you thought you knew, things you probably really didn't want to know...
So I ~~wasted~~ spent a bit of time there, just to see who I really am.
There were some no brainers:
Like:

Your Taste in Music:

Heavy Metal: Highest Influence

90's Alternative: High Influence

Punk: High Influence

80's Alternative: Medium Influence

Classic Rock: Medium Influence

How's Your Taste in Music?

See, that is a duh moment. Along with, I am a "daisy". I didn't even cheat(we wont go to that test). According to blog things- the end and be all of answers to our inner self, I "see the world with an artist's eyes. ...Finding beauty is easy...even in the dullest of moments"...and something or other about being a hedonist. pfft.
I am also not shocked by being 70% weirdo, or a geek or even 88% a lady. I took many and only a few stood out as a "WHOA-moment"...

My Superpowers? Due to a MUTANT defect-ahem recall the blue eyes? SEE! (no pun intended)...I KNEW IT! Blogthings agrees! (I wonder if I can still blog while on the run...)Well my Superpower is invisibility. Huh. I think I already have that- just attributed it to being the youngest. I can sit in a meeting bring up a really creative idea and no more than ten minutes later some one else says the same damn thing---ah well...I need to be more devious with my SuperPowers.
Another ah ha...I knew something was up. Two things: I was born in the wrong damn month! AND, I am only 93% Virgo! WTF?! Where is the other 7%? Where did it go? Did someone take it? Did I lose it along the way? Can I have it back, or did I some how forfeit it?
This could be THE missing piece! All this time I was living like 100% Virgoian. When in reality I have only been 93% of the way there. This mysterious 7%, the missing piece, my nemesis? This is the "who" I battle and wage wars with? Who am I? Gee I hope not a Taurus, or an Aries oh please not an Aries.(No offense just don't think they would really co-habitate well with the other 93% yanno?)
I wonder if blogthings will tell me soon ...need to find out. This could just solve all the world problems. Okay not the worlds but my own, okay not all of them maybe like one. May be.
Hmmmm should use my mutant gene induced super powers.
Of course I skipped about a gazillion tests, I will either get to them at a later date or just not do them. meh. I don't think I need the 'cool parent' test, I am, my story and I am sticking to it. Or How Californian I am, as there is one small glitch: I live on the other coast. Not up for my life rating. I say it is a ten. Sounds good to me. Or that must of a test, How psycho is my boss(Everyone wave!).
My retro girl? 80's Goth Chick...surprise surprise. When did an 80's Goth Chick become retro? Believe me- I will take it, better than when the best friend said "Wow your hair is cute(first bad thing, cute in a sentence describing moi, is not good) it is flippy like Mrs. Brady(or some other 50's mom) or the day she said I had the Farrah thing going on. To which I replied, "It's astonishing we remain friends, some days". I will keep my Gothy chick, thank you very much. Although I have given up the black lipstick, raccoon eyes and shaved head occasionally that is, when not, the blue or pink color for...for...ummm whatever I currently am labeled.
I am only 23% pure, please don't hold it against me. Actually that is up from the 10% I had a few years back...See we do gain brownie points along the way.
And lastly, I was very ecstatic to learn that The Man and I are compatible with living together. I would hate to think the after 18 years we were wrong...(Hey maybe that is where my 7% went?)

Not sure how to sign off, so I will use all the names blog things tends to think I should be using:

Peace,
Hayden Emery(I like this actually)
Assunta Conti(Ummm yeahI went on and did it again, not sure if I could live with being called Assie)
Alessandra Conti
Alessandra Lombardi
Enola Shuman
Love Bratteridge
Amy Lee(I swear I did not cheat!)
Saffron

Rock on...
dude

Dunno, just is

2008-02-03T15:46:00.000-05:00

Question: Why aren't you a screenwriter then?

Answer: Dunno.

Well if that is not a blatant lie. Yet this was my reply. Just delving into the subject, is no easy task. Why aren't I a lot of things?
Dunno. Just is.
I could list the reasons. I can analyze said reasons, won't change a thing.
Yet if one must know, I can oblige. I am kind like that. I will answer simply:

1. I am stubborn.
2. I have this love/hate thing with my work.
3. I procrastinate and begin "other" projects that are just too important at the time.
4. I am 42.
5. I live on the East Coast and I. am. not. moving.
6. There was a reason why I did not get my English Degree or a degree in Creative Writing/Lit.
7. Ummmmm because?
8. An undeniable fear, of just that one word, "pass".
9. I am stubborn(I know I did and?)
10.There are about Fifty thousand other individuals out there, doing the same damn thing.
11. I am not a writer. I do not exercise any creed or even kid myself, not in the slightest.
12. I write and torture myself due to my fascination with going insane.

Is that enough reasons? Now many of them need more explanation, a further dissection I am sure. If you need one ask, other wise it stands as is...

A fifth for Friday

2008-02-01T08:57:00.000-05:00

Why a fifth? I dunno, just came to me. Maybe you'll want a fifth after reading?
Maybe it is just a fifth of the nonsense that obscures my daily life?
Maybe I just couldn't come up with a really cool title?
So I was thinking today, although I do think every day, today was particularly enlightening.
Ummm yeah, whatever, jus roll with me here.

Words that crossed my path and I just might choose to expound on...we'll see.
-N.O.W.
-Tax laws
-The Debates
-Shadowing
-The media
-Mentors

I have been feeling, a bit cheeky as of late. Not that is out of the norm for me, but for here it may well be.
I have a knack for finding the ridiculous/funny of even some more serious topics. I attribute this as a "coping mechanism". Its my answer and I am sticking with it.
Anyhoo-
I have been following the Presidential campaigns. To a point where it may be construed as fanatic. A tad bit obsessive. I have endured every debate, and I am a regular viewer of evening fare on MSNBC. SO there.
When someone approaches me and inquires my thoughts, almost with such a tone, I would swear it was condescending, and following that inquiry with a, "You MUST be a Hillary supporter"...I kinda take offense.
I MUST be?
Why? I have the same parts? Ummm, I am a mother? Why would you say that?
(I did say that btw)
Their answer was flustered, and stated that they "assumed", considering.
Considering what?
At this point the minor discussion was interrupted by that thing known as work.
And it has stuck with me since.
Nah, I am not a Hillary supporter. I am not a anyone supporter at this moment. Although I know what party I am aligned with, and what party I will vote come November. I currently am feeling my way around the "issues". Look, my overall opinion? In truth? Politicians, are politicians. No need to say more. I am not cynical, I am not being skeptical, although I believe, for myself, I have reason to be. Never will another individual, have all the same answers as me or agree with my ideas. And that is all good in my world. I am not selfish like that, :)
Off tangent here, I sit and I talk to the television at night. I do. Unless The Man is sitting there with me as he usually is, and we both sit there and talk to the television.
The media has been driving me bonkers. First to bring in hard core, touchy issues that I believe have no bearing. I watched as the media started trickling the race and the woman "issues". Issues? These are issues? No they are not issues until it is thrust out there and shoved down people's throats. Are their Americans who will cast votes based on them, yes. Unfortunately.
Yet these "words" did not come up until people in the media brought them up and made them a huge distraction away from the issues.
Then to make a statements, as "well do you think this targets that segment of the population?"
Hello! What about gay and lesbians? They were never targeted in past elections?
What about the Christian Fundamentalists? They were never targeted or given props?
Hello? Anyone home?
And currently N.O.W.
Sigh.
First off let me clarify something I haven't written yet...
I am all for equal rights. Across the board. Being a woman, I have clearly sided with ERA(I won a debate class on this subject). I believe in chivalry as well.
I don't believe in the I hate Men attitude SOME(not all) Feminists appear to harbor. On the flip side I am not a huge fan of Chauvinists either. I believe in the strengths of women. I believe every woman should be independent, strong willed and not rely on another individual for salvation.(Yeah we can chat about it at a later date).
To put it out there that one candidate did not shake another candidate's hand because she was a woman and it was a snub, it just really trying on my intelligence. Please, man or woman, IF it was truly a snub or a perceived one, who cares!
As a competitive person, I know exactly that feeling of shaking an opponents hand.
Was it in bad taste? Yes, bad sportsmanship. End of story back to the real issues, that are at hand. Health care, the Economy, Global outsourcing, Immigration and taxes(plus).
Move forward people.
I read the paper daily. The AP had an article last night about Tax Laws throughout the country. New laws, and laws already on the books.
-Texas has a pole tax. Yep. They tax the strip clubs.
-Some states are taxing pornography? Think of the places one could go with that! What are the parameters? DO I really want to know that? Do you? Does your spouse owe you back taxes? Oh my...
-N. Carolina(with other states) even taxes narcotics. I drug dealer can go into the DRS office, and buy tax stamps. They have even put a measurement, of Cocaine that has to be taxed. 6 grams and under-no tax. Over 7 grams there is tax. Yes, I see Mr/Ms Local drug dealer just waltzing in today to pick those up. "Sorry dude, the price has gone up do to the tax increase. That will $25.95, with the tax". The Law also provides that this person can go in without fear of being 'snitched' on.
Is it just me?
Now the educated me, sees the round robin way for the law enforcement here, they can get them on tax evasion on top of drug charges, and in N Carolina they(after a drug bust) will send them a tax bill. For real!
I find that humorous and I can not tell you why.
-States are now considering LEASING their highways. -Huh? "Hello Connecticut? Yeah this is California, we are expecting a busy weekend and were wondering if we could lease 91 or 95?"
I am not that daft, I get it. Just funnin'
- Amusement taxes. Yes. You think I am funny? I amuse you? Cool now pay up! Got me taxes to pay!
What about swearing taxes? Or frown taxes? Idiot tax? I could go on, yet I won't subject you all to my lunacy.
I am sure there are plenty more, in fact I know there is, these just stuck out-blaring silly.
Onward- a gf of mine, the other day was in someone's office, I caught them in mid conversation. I walked in while my brain was either on hiatus or just crammed with so much information, nothing stuck until this morning.
It occurred to me that T., had requested her older son shadow me for a day. As he is hoping to make a career in Human Services(DONT DO IT!). I am humbled and honored that T., would ask and think that highly to entrust me with her son and his future for the day.
I mean, she KNOWS me!
A bit of panic set in-Oh My! I will have to be like, all professional and shit. Dang.
I hope she wont be upset when he returns home wearing all black and rockin' out to the metal mosh pit channel on XM Radio, wearing Tripp jeans and donning new fancy schmancy Slayer or Anarchy t-shirts.
Ya think?

And lastly in all of my wit and charm(insert smile here)-
It was brought to my attention, I had not tagged or awarded anyone the Blogging Mentor award. I was aware of this fact and purposely had not, as I wanted to mull it about in my head. I just didn't relay that thought in the post, bad blogger.
I will do so now:
Ender: What can I say? Ender is a confidant, a friend and someone I thoroughly enjoy chatting with, and look up to and run to for answers. She is the all knowledgeable one. Never fails if I have a question, if she doesn't have an answer she will find it.
Andrew Ruth: An incredible inspiration, a wonderful writer!
Mikster: Who is just as whacky as the rest, yet he does it openly. A great blogger, a wonderful writer and one that I do look up to(I am short yanno)!
Meleah: A kindred spirit, full of vim and vigor or suttin'. I look forward to each post, and every comment from her! She blogs when she is low and when she is elated...everyday. Just gotta dig her style.
Jeff: Who has been kickin around these parts for a bit. One that I can agree or disagree and its all good. A blogger with respect and great intentions, that I admire. Makes me think and ponder.
Chris: An old friend. One that has stuck by in the grim days of blogging,lol.
And there are so many more, that just set that bar to a level of blogging, I envy. The Hungry Ghost, Avery, Christina, the other Jodi you know as Paisley- and many more. I thank you all for kind words, support and just your blogging style! Keeps me on my toes!
For more info on the Mentor Award read here: SueBlimely's.

Now before you all leave make sure you fill out the new tax forms. I wouldn't want to be breaking any tax laws, if you live in any of the states with a sense of humor, if you were amused or entertained, thoughts that breezed through-you just may owe!

Snippets#3

2008-01-30T13:05:00.000-05:00

The past week, absolutely kicked my ass. In many different directions, that at one point I wondered where my arse was without me and if it would return. Alas, it did. Thankfully, I'd look pretty darn funny without one.
In the midst of my pouting and internal thrashing, I was kindly given this: By Two outstanding bloggers, Loz and Dan. Even though one has referred to me as a "Septic" and the other a "Non Patriot"...I am not offended, nope not at all, I live by the karma principle...
I thank you both and your words are too kind and well appreciated! I am humbled as well to be thought of in such a way. Thank you. To read about The Blogging Mentor award and its creation, stop over to SueBlimelys!

In midstream of the deluge, Piper gave me a a wonderful virtual hug for helping her out, by tagging me! Ain't she a PEACH! I think I am seeing a pattern here with "friends" hmmm maybe Holly is onto something here with her frenemies. (kidding, Piper, I still adore you!): Tag on!
Name one thing you do every day:
Lol Oh my! Just one? Well there are the obvious ones that can go without mention...
Laugh. I laugh every single damn day. Gotta. If I didnt I think I would've been committed a long time ago.

Name 2 things you wish you could learn:

Another endless list of things, and two?
You want just two?
One-Quantum physics. Wha? You asked.
Two would be, hmmm...How to fly? Ummm no the whole fear of heights and being in plane kinda icksnay that whole idea. What would I want to learn? To play guitar, cause I am mad green with envy over the people in this house...damn them...still.

Name 3 things that remind you of your childhood:
This is easy...as it happens quite frequently that longing for the carefree, free spirited whimsical child I once embraced...
Blue jays on a summer morning
The smell of new crayons transport me right back,
and swing sets.

Name 4 things you love to eat but rarely do:
Dang...lists and lists...
Red meat, just haven't eaten it in over ten years, and my stomach can not tolerate it if I do.
Meatball grinders(Subs for all you other people not living in CT). With LOADS of cheese!(again has redmeat, and fat and carbs...and ah well-we wont go there.)
Brownies. Yummy ooooey gooey hot out of the oven brownies.
and one of my favorites, apples. I cant eat them. At the age of fourteen, I had an allergic reaction to apples(and pears, fresh peas in pods, celery, carrots,plums, plus a few more). This makes me grieve. I LOVE apples. I used to eat three(or more) a day. There was a small apple orchard up the street from my home as a child. We would ride our bikes everyday and get a sack of apples. There is no other better taste than a fresh picked apple...sigh.
The last time I tempted fate and had one, my throat swelled, my face swelled and it was not a swell time. I can eat any of those listed if they are cooked though, yet its not the same.

Name 5 things/people that make you feel good:
Like Piper, I will skip on over the obvious choices. For me it would be much easier and fill all five rather quickly. Aside from the family here is my five;
Number one-sleep. I miss it. I was one of those sleep until noon kinda gals. Lucky if I can make it past 4 am.
Two- A steamy mug o'joe, anytime of the day.
Three- The individuals I work with, they remind me why I do what I do.
Four-A compliment.
And Five- a smile from a stranger.

This word came up in conversation with ender:
Dissident:
A dissident, broadly defined, is a person who actively opposes an established opinion, policy, or structure(that'd be aka parents). The term can be used to refer to a number of types of dissidents, including political, social, and militant dissidents(I think they are a diverse group and encompass all of these). When individual dissidents unite in a common cause they may become known as a dissident movement.

Huh...I think I got a few of these squatting upstairs in no man's land...I'd check around your humble abode for them as well, I think they are planning a coup. (Gee I hope they don't see this)

I think I have passed by the upheaval. The moment that the brain snapped, and leaked all over the damn place. Kind of messy and a real bitch to clean up, Alas I made it through. All is well and currently processing some thoughts through the cheese grater known as the brain. Hopefully I will have some thoughts ~~flushed~~ posted forward soon!

I'd like to thank all who commented and left wonderful words on my previous post! Much much appreciated!

Someone's Mother

2008-01-27T02:32:00.000-05:00

Sixteen years ago, I was scared. I felt so alone.
My life, on that very night was about to take a turn that I could never, ever change.
Life as I knew it, was over.
Sixteen years ago, on the eve of today, I cried myself to sleep.
The next day, I was to become a mother. My first son was to be born. Man, was I scared. I remember pacing around my room. Folding clothes, placing them in the dresser. Then refolding them. People call it nesting, I called it freaking out.

Four days prior to this moment, I was told the baby was breach. The next day, I went back to the hospital, they were going to move him manually.
Yes, manually. Yeah....it's as fun as it sounds.
They began the procedure, by pushing on my belly. "This baby wasnt budging." a nurse said as she pushed with all her might on my swollen body.
A specialist entered the room, examined me(which at 34 weeks is no pleasure walk in the park), and then the ultrasound. The baby was stuck. The head under my rib cage, the feet, legs in a sitting position. And, there was not enough fluid to attempt the procedure again. They would push,the baby could move right back, the cord could be collapsed and then the rest of what the Doc said just blurred. The last thing I remember was, "Considering the kidney issues(mine), the baby in breach, you will have to come in on Monday for a C-section". Dazed, I could only say, "O.K."
Monday came, I was awake during the whole surgery. That was a trip in itself. My mother came in the operating room with me. Well to make a long story short, we had no idea if the baby was boy or girl. Twenty minutes into the surgery the Doc asked what names I had picked out. I replied Haley or Paul. Then he popped this little tiny baby with mounds of hair over the blue surgical barrier, and there he was, Paul Michael. I will never forget that moment. Nothing at that very second mattered. Not the burning in my back from the epidural, not the fact that my face felt like it was going to explode from being tilted. His eyes were wide, his lungs were strong. I was strapped down still unable to hold him, to feel him, Gramma had the honors. God he was beautiful! I remember weeping. After that I don't remember much. The pain medication kicked in pretty quick. lol... wooo hooo loopy yes I was.
Then the news came. He had to stay in the nursery. He was tiny, just 5 pounds. He was 6 weeks early. Then more news came. There something wrong with his heart. He needed to see a specialist. They scheduled an appointment with the top pediatric cardiologist in the state, for the day we left the hospital. They assured me, it was just a mur mur, and common in babies born early.
They were wrong. That day is a blur as well. I remember standing in a dark room with my precious son, staring at a screen. On this screen was a color image of his heart. Dr. Diana was pointing out the hole in his heart. The nurse had to catch me as my knees gave way. I cried all the way home.
They avoided surgery and monitored how he was doing, at 8 weeks old he was back in the hospital. He had turned blue, I rushed him to the ER. We spent the next 2 weeks in the hospital. This child had tubes everywhere, needles probing him, and he had to stay in a tent. He was only allowed to be out of it a total of an hour a day. Devastating. But again, he pulled through. By the time he was 5, he got the all clear. The muscle had grown over/around the hole. That had to be the most joyous day.
Today, he is known here, as the Teen, Cave Dweller, Rocker. Yes the rebel gum chewer. He turns 16 today. I turn with him.
Bless this child...my precious precious son. To see him now as he towers over me.(Although he knows I can still take him out. I know he is reading this,hi Paulie)To watch silly movies or even deep serious film, and discuss the topics. To see a comedian and burn the punch lines for the next month or two. He gets Monty Python(need I say more?). To sit and chat with him, there are moments when I get lost in his eyes. Those dark chocolate eyes, I am transported back to that day when I first looked into them. Like a short film, all the moments of this little man deluge my brain. From day one to the present.
At 16, I feel pangs of my growing as well, and yet I am satisfied, comforted in knowing what kind of human being he truly is in his heart. His talents are incredible from his music to his writing. I am in awe and I am jealous, his thoughts and his style of writing blow me away. My pride wells, that he is my son. That he is who he is.
His fortitude, his common sense, his outlook on life and his own future.
His future. There was a time when I had thought that was limited. Yet he fought, and he survived, from day one.
I will never forget that day. The day I became someone's mother. The day I became Paul's mother.

Happy Birthday Paul! 143
(Baloney hater)

Peace

go say happy birthday! Sanctuary

The ease of inference.

2008-01-25T06:49:00.000-05:00

The bad thing about this medium, is the infliction, the true diction and affect is missing.
Maybe I am being overly sensitive.
Maybe.
Or just maybe some read the words they choose, and gather an opinion and run with it.

What I write here, is often a momentary thought. A process caught in the act, so to speak. What is fluttering in at that very moment I sit to hammer out on this crappy keyboard.

Now I never bitch about comments. Unless I feel its one, a huge misunderstanding or lack of fact comment and two, it is perceived as an attack on my person. Who I am.

I would hope that the majority of people, would keep it mind and NOT judge words solely on them sitting upon their screen.

If you read one post, just one, or even if you have read all 600, you can not sit back and claim to "know" me.
Maybe my call of a misunderstood comment is wrong. May be I misunderstood.
Although I can be a pretty good read.

So here is a small clarification on the previous post.

I know how to forgive.
Yet I believe, (read MY OPINION) that a person has a right, to not do so, as it is the "right" thing to do.
For who?
If I feel strongly, within every cell of my body that some action another human CHOSE to commit against my person, and I don't forgive them, I am not wrong. It is my choice. I should not HAVE to, due to a societal "feeling" or doctrine.
That goes against the grain of who I am.
I was simply stating, a thought, running through my head. A thought of separating the two polar ends. Action vs reactions hence a consequence.

Now may be I read it wrong, more than likely, yet an implication that I do not respect another person, another person who has acted in such a way to offend me, hurt me,physically, emotionally,etc, by not going through the motions of forgiving them, just does not make sense.

Who would be disrespecting who?

Person A hurts or commits something heinous against Person B.
Who was not being respectful?

I choose to walk away. It is not my "job" to amend another person's wrong. It is my "job" to appease their sense of salvation. Or whatever it is they seek. That is their preservation.
I am responsible for my own.
Now to clarify that, does that mean when someone apologizes to me, I walk away and condemn them for the rest of their lives? No.
No.No.No.
I can accept an apology.
Acceptance. Move along.
It does abolish the facts. It does not absolve their actions. They CHOSE to engage in the activity.
I did NOT request it.
Again, where the person sitting here typing, that person you truly do not know, is not an angel. I have made choices. Some really bad ones at that in my lifetime.
I would not expect someone to forgive me. I can make my own amends within myself and my character.
I would not take it at being disrespectful either.

The implication that I am such a person, disrespectful, I am kind of offended by that notion.
I believe in respect. I believe in acceptance. I can agree to disagree until the cows come home.
Do I agree with a statement that this world has lost the ability to truly respect another human being. Yes I do. Do I believe we need, as a human race, to get back to that concept? Yes I do.
Isee it. I live it. I breath it. Everyday of my life.
I teach it with my children. I hope against hope that the ripple effect will touch someone and pass it along.

The two do not belong together.
Forgiveness is too personal, and for me or anyone else to expect someone to do so, is forcing MY beliefs on them and their character.
If I can accept it and move forward. I would have to say that would be the consequence of the action, and that should accepted.

I have done my learning in some areas. I have accomplished many ideas and concepts. I have opened myself up to judgments, and I live with that all day.
I know the meaning. I know what comes from the two. Yet in my eyes, my heart they are very different. And to infer that I am not one or another, well does not sit well within these old bones.
No harm no foul...oce again just the placement of my thoughts. Take from them what you will.

Eh just my two cents....

While I am on this Roll

2008-01-24T19:15:00.000-05:00

Forgiveness.

That is a tough word. Creates a bit of anxiety for some.
I have been told over the years that it is 'good' to forgive. To let go.

Letting go? Isnt the hard part. Nope.
I find walking away much easier. That whole fight or flight?

{Run away Run away}

Nah, I in my little warped place called a brain, I do not view it as running away either.

I have hard time with forgiving someone. Obsolving someone from a 'wrong' done onto my person.
I had written about this here...So Sorry wrong Number.
Go ahead read, I'll wait....

This all is wandering about in the gray matter because of this person...
It's all his fault. :snicker:

Is there a difference between forgiveness and sorry? Well duh, yes. All in all it all leads to the same thing. Semantics Schemantics.
I don't hold grudges. I don't. One can not hold a grudge if it just comes down to acceptance. I do not forgive because I have to do so. I will do so when it is an obvius accident...Ignorance does not count. Narrow minded does not count. Being stupid does NOT count.
I would rather walk away from the negativity than make half hearted attempts at forgiveness and say I forgive yet hold somewhere in, tucked in the crevices, to be used at a later date.
{I blow my nose in your general direction}
Yea yea, it is a trust thing with me.

Does this shoe fit on my foot as well? Yep. If I do something, and I do so KNOWING it is going to be perceived as 'wrong' in someone else's eyes, then continue to do this anyway? Well hell I invited this in...If I wasnt right to begin with, in action, in thought and in premise...resulting in the bruising of another, I should EXPECT the consequences of such actions.
I really dislike being manipulated.
As most do, if they even realize that it is occurring.

"Don't be sorry, be right"

Oh I am not living in a tunnel either. We make mistakes. We make misjudgments. We are human. Call it what it is...
I have Bullshit Clause : Don't Bullshit me. Just freakin(spell check wanted to change freakin to foreskin...kinda give the whole entry a different perspective eh?) say it. Man people, we dont have to agree on everything in this life. I agree to disagree daily! Just cut through it and say it!
Then it is up to other individuals involved(affected) to accept and move on...
I dont live with the illusion of MUST. One must like another. One must conform to everything, etc. Nope. One mustn't.
One should accept people for WHO they are. Simple.
One should accept themselves for WHO they are.
I accept that there are those who don't appreciate me, my humor, my tangents, just me for me. Fine, move along little puppy you are clouding up my air with your negativity. Go do it elsewhere.
And these are the same individuals who 'don't get it', the why I may not be enamored with them. I do not live with a one way world. We are dual.

I also accept the FACT, I don't have to like them. visa versa...touche ole!
So take it as it is....
Geesh...

In my morning jaunts around, while leaving a comment somewhere, it dawned on me:
What dawned on you Jodi?
Oh so glad you asked.... On blogger when you leave a comment you have a choice to "Pick an identity"
Which fed the fire in the head, made me wonder why pick your identity. Don't you wish you could do that in life?
So I thought of my own to choose from:
I am lstupendouscrazymotherdrivesaeffin'v8andbangsoutSLAYERouttamyway Super hero -or-
The current one.
The Bitch down the hall.
THE BITCH down the hall.{For when I am reallllllly ready to lay out a few heads on a platter}
The CEO of the household fighting crime and mayhem in the minds of twisted...Oh never mind
My alteregos scare me...subjecting the unsuspecting of the world just wouldn't be right.

A friend sent me this to cheer me up:

Potential Murder Suspect and my personal fave Psychotic Mood Swings:
Q: How many women with PMS does it take to change a light bulb?

A: One!!! ONLY ONE!!!! And do you know WHY?
Because no one else in this house knows HOW to
change a light bulb! They don't even know that the
bulb is BURNED OUT!! They'd sit there in the dark
for THREE D AYS before they figured it out!! And,
once they figured it out, they wouldn't be able to
find the light bulbs despite the fact they've been in
the SAME CUPBOARD for the past 13 YEARS! But
if they &n! bsp;did, by some miracle of God, actually find
the bulbs 2 DAYS LATER, the chair they dragged to
stand on to change the STUPID light bulb would
STILL BE IN THE SAME SPOT!!!!! AND UNDERNEATH IT
WOULD BE THE WRAPPER THE STUPID LIGHT BULBS CAME
IN!!! BECAUSE NO ONE EVER CARRIES OUT THE
GARBAGE!!!! IT'S A WONDER WE HAVEN'T ALL
SUFFOCATED FROM THE PILES OF GARBAGE THAT ARE A FOOT
DEEP THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE HOUSE!! IT WOULD TAKE
AN ARMY TO CLEAN THIS FREAKIN' HOUSE!

I'm sorry. What was your question?

Is it a coincidence that I have a mini rant on forgiveness, those who have done wrong in me eyes and a little email thingy on PMS?

Eh, take it as you wish......

Peace

Print is: Psyche Weeping; Artist: Kanuko Craft

2008-01-22T18:49:00.000-05:00

There are just moments we can not erase from our minds. Some just too much to relive.
The days, when I need them to move along at a pace of blur.
When I want them to pass by my eyes with out so much as skipping a beat.

They droll on.

The clock moves slow, taunting me. Five minutes? When it felt like an hour.

Never one to wish it away. Yet the overwhelming feeling, exhausting, of yearning to be done. The whole week.
Wanting to float off, drift away. Wake me when its Friday evening.
Tell me its done and my Joy shall return.
Whisk me off to dreamland for a slumber so deep.

Even if I hang from a cliff in the land of awe. Or fall endlessly into a pit of darkness.

Fill my subconscious sense with color and sounds.
White noise is more pleasing than the drone of nonsense within the waking world.

Just let me float and I shall return.

Just let this week be done.

Note to self(TYPO LADEN BABBLE)

2008-01-22T07:55:00.000-05:00

Just me talking to myself....

I think time has come for a change. A serious, well thought out change.

Spurred by the inability to be effective in my position anymore. And sadly I have no desire to be.
I have all the passion for what I do.
The benefits of the job. Not bennies, as in insurance, vacation, etc. No the benefits of making a difference. Of being able to call it as I see it, for the benefit on people.
So that they may live a positive and productive life.
I thought I was doing that in some fashion.
Yet as of late I am not feeling it.
My job, as intricate as it it is, is so very simple as well.
Somewhere lines are blurred.
Having more and more days where conflict, from peers and staff, is increasingly the norm.
Bitter feelings, that I, don't side with them and their desires.
Accused of being sarcastic, brutal in my assessments of their jobs. Not backing them up by their perceptions-
Thus leading to a game of payback.
?
My employment is based and for the individuals we serve. To guide, to support, to teach, THEM.
NOT, you the staff person.
I give no apologies for my stance.
My life, my career is not derived by making YOUR life easier.
I do not appreciate one trying, sadly, to one up me.
Without covering their basis.
Unfortunately, I proved you wrong. I truly had hoped you were right,and wouldnt have gone to such lengths to make yourself look like an ass.

Back to the job, itself.

I am here to write programs. To evaluate. To assess. To observe. To conclude.
And lo and behold to hope.
For nothing in this field is written in stone. I make no guarantees, as human behaviors gives us none.

I will not support a plan that is unnecessary. I will not support a plan that is a waste of money.
Not when we have hired people who sit on their asses, and complain when a consumer wants to leave the room, or chooses something else to do.
I will not support the attitude , when the people in charge sit behind closed doors, and then come to me when their staff are having difficulties.
Open your door.

Your facts, are different than mine.
I observe something on polar ends.
I am unsure where you look, or what program, but it is not the one you should be.

We can solve this, fine you want that request granted. Sure I will do that end of MY job.. I will go to the ends of the earth if it benefits the consumers.
I will advocate until I turn blue.

But you will sacrifice.
You will.
FOr your request you will have to let go another staff person.
and/or, I will develop an intervention/crisis team.
Then no one will have to worry.
Sounds great, doesnt it?
Good, cause you all get a pay cut and less hours, cause your services will not be needed.
THat pay you get? Is based on the trainings you receive. And well if they dont have to implement those duties anymore? They dont need that training. Hence lower pay.
Or we lay off people.

This is not sarcasm.
This is not a threat.

It is a fact.

We do not work in a field that is brimming with money.
We just cant expect this and that, due to a request.

We must seek out different avenues. and that is not something anyone has done. Oh it has been said, but my word doesnt appear to hold ground.
Why is that?

Is that not my job?
If its not tell me now, I will gladly step down.

Now, I will not, not allow you to speak to me as you felt you were entitled to yesterday.

Not happening.
Cross the line again, and well, I will say what is on my mind. What consequences follow-such it shall be.

See I am that confident in how to do my job.

Maybe you(all) Should really begin looking at how you complete yours.

Friday...and she is still babbling

2008-01-18T11:10:00.000-05:00

So ummm yeah. It is friday.(Right? It is right?) Unless you are reading this tomorrow then I guess it wouldnt be...
Dilemma's.

Anyhoo- I was over at Meleah's, and she was going to steal a meme, but then got tagged, so I stole it.

It's making your own album cover. See it? Pretty cool eh?
THe rules will follow at the end, for anyone who wants to play along. I thought it would be interesting and make a cool graphic.
Woo hoo!

Thanks for all the wonderful comments. Welcome to all the "new" or delurkers. Nice to hear from you!
As you may have noticed(if you are that observant) I tossed the haloscan. I was overly irritated with them- had enough and reworked my whole template. I miss it. Terribly.
I had one question to go and Chris was kind enough to ask(I threatened him)...
I was actually surprised at the questions that were asked. I gave you all carte blanche, and you kept it tame. Surprised me. Eh maybe its me, I would've run with that opportunity.
But seeing how I chat with myself on this ongoing basis, and well you read it, just wouldnt be the same.
I have been pretty low on wit, or enough to make a post. Inspiration? Eh, not feeling very inspirational. I think I have grown tired of writing. For a bit anyways. I sit here and stare at the screen, tab over to another project and again the cursor just blinks at me, tab again- well you see the pattern.
Nada.
So to stop my painful babble, here is Chris' question:
Chris said...

Question: What childhood friend do you miss the most and why? If you were to run into them today, do you think you'd still be friends now?

Answer: My life is compartmentalized in my little noggin. Sectioned off by spans of time. There isnt just one person that sticks out.
I grew up in suburbia. A neighborhood that consisted of 4 streets, and about a 100+ kids. Our little section was a ratio of 5 boys to 2 girls.
There were 3 of girls that were constantly together. G and S. We played tag, horse, mother may I, stickball, kickball, etc etc, with all the guys. We were the epitome of tomboys. Well S tried to be the little princess, compared to G and I, I guess she could have that title. All three of us were the only girls in our families.
Then M moved into the hood.
We matured and M and I became best friends. S and I had drifted off. She had different goals, even in Jr High, she was moving out of here. She was quirky and I have some good memories, we knew each other from the days we were born literally.
M and I went to all the parties, talked all the boy stuff(although, as I found out most recently the guys in HS thought I was gay), we even created, wrote and starred in our own comedy skits for our Senior Variety show.
We went to the same college, lived together, drifted off as my priorities shifted to the darker side of life. And well she was looking to get married. Far Far FAR off on my agenda aka life.
Then there was L2, she and I went to camp together and played ball together all through elementary, jr high and high school.

I kept in touch with L, who I had become friends with in Jr High, her mother and my mother were good friends. I still see L, both of us 4 kids, and a divorce and a whole bunch of drama inbetween.

This is such a simple question. I am not one to truly "miss" people. Especially from so long ago. Life was just,

different.
Yeah yeah we all say, "Hey I will call ya" and we never do. I have not been to one reunion, and I have no desire to go. Not for any bad reasons, not like Joplin who only went to shove her celebrity back at them. Nah.
I had a great time! I had fun. I was "friends" with every one. The heads, the jocks, the gearheads(my brother owned race cars and I can even rebuild a transmission, and a 318, change my own oil blah blah), the potheads(wha? That's a shock?), the prima donna's, the porcelain faces, the nerds, the geeks- everyone! Yes, yes even the cheerleaders. Rah!

I just have no desire. SO much of the HS years are just filled with falsehoods, and a mind so twisted up with illusions. I look back now and wish i could kick my own ass sometimes.

What I miss are the moments, the feeling from those moments.
Playing stickball on a humid night, hoping Mom wouldnt throw the porch light on just yet. One more inning, just one more. Playing tonka in the sandbox and running make believe like a movie. We would do it over and over until it was right.
I miss the sound of Blue jays on a summer morning.
The smell of the first day of school.
The Sunday's spent in B's screened in porch watching the old karate movies, Godzilla, King Kong, etc. Sitting on the beat up picnic table, dreaming what we would be. How we would be.
I see them all from time to time(Except S- as she DID get the hell out of here-did well too).
When I see them, a second of sadness just fills my core- I have pictures of those days. Man we were all so freakin smiley. So...

Free spirited.

That would be what I miss, and all the "who" that are attached. I so think fondly of those, and I am saddened when I hear of one of their parent's passing. I send cards or go to the wake. Yet there is no great desire to bond again.

To answer the latter part of the question? Yes. I occasionally see B when he comes to visit his father. (Mr Z and my Mother are the ONLY original people to the hood left). G, I just found out works for my Agency, in another building, we chatted just the other day. S, well, we didnt leave our youth on the best of terms. All the kudos to her, she keeps in touch with my mother.
M moved back to the midwest, Indiana. We keep in touch, her more than I.

I am just a terrible friend when it comes to that kind of stuff. I work in the immediate moment, with all god intentions.

I do believe we are still "friends"- just our paths have gone in such different directions, they dont cross to often.

What childhood friend do you miss? What stops you from contacting them?

Sorry for the rather boring post....told ya, IGOTNADA!

Peace

*Rules for the make your Album cover:
Meleah saw it " on Ingrid’s site, whom she was going to STEAL it from, but then, Olga tagged her for this meme, so it is really not stealing anymore. "*

How to play:The Band.

You are about to have your own band’s CD cover. And NO THOUGHT is involved. I followed these instructions to the letter and below is the end result. Try it yourself? Here are the directions:

1.The first article title on this page is the name of your band.

2. The last four words of the very last quote on this page is the title of your album.

3. The third picture, no matter what it is, on this page, will be your album cover.

4. Use your graphics program of choice to throw them together, and post the results.

*quote, a tad bit edited from Meleah

Dreaming of Sand

2008-01-17T09:34:00.000-05:00

"I thought you used to be a beach bum?", he said with a smirk.

"I was, back in the day."

"Then why the LOOK?", sarcastically uttered as he stood waiting for a reason.

A short conversation between the Teen and I.
I had been grumbling to myself most of last week, something about:
"Freakin bathing suit, ugh." or "I have spent a better part of my adulthood covering up, hiding behind clothing and now you all want me to go to the beach?" or "Have you lost your mind? Whatdaya mean I HAVE to wear a bathing suit? Shorts are fine."(To the last one Otto replied, "Ma, you are a dork")

Yeah so sue me.
The advantages of living on the coast and in such a small state, the beach was our haven. Out of the suburban hub bub and off to the shore. That is where I was most of my teen life. We would get up at 5am, to beat the traffic and leave the beach at 6pm. Next day do it all over again.
I have always felt a calm take over as soon as my feet hit the sand. THere were no worries. No fears.
Life has a way off lifting you up and taking you down paths, and the old ones tend to be forgotten.
Oh and how I had forgotten the feeling.
I would always say, I wanted to live by the water. Ocean or Lake. No difference. Just water. Water was an escape, lost within. Free.
The feeling returns for days, where I attempt to enjoy it and then feel sorrow that it too, shall move on and life return.
My children have the deep love for the ocean as I do. Since I can remember, as a family our vacations were always at a beach, somewhere in New England. We have been to them all.
My favorites would be Old Orchard in Maine(still to this day), Black Point Beach(Where we went this weekend) and BoothBay in Maine. Hampton is cool, yet has grown very commercial.
Every summer My Aunt and Uncle would host a Family Reunion at their cottage in Black Point.
Summers so long ago. Memories of a girl so lost to me. My sons inquired about the place when one of my brothers bought the cottage.
For some reason I was short with my answers. As if, it never existed.
And I haven't a clue as to why. Children are persistent.

I told them of jellyfish, crabbing off the jetty and the nuclear power plant across the way...
As soon as we pulled into the "Club" area, the memories flooded back.
Two little girls running up the sand covered street, the air, the clean cool salty air...
Laughter, tons of laughter. And dreams.
Before we could even unload the truck, the older boys were gone. Off to the beach. I walked down with the little ones about twenty minutes later.
Honestly I have no real revelations. No epiphanies. No ground breaking report. Just simply, it was a beautiful day.
The boys learned the art of crabbing, quite quickly. The joyful laughter coming the jetty caught my ear numerous times. And for a brief moment I saw two little blonde girls, sunsoaked and filled with the glee of just being.

From there, thoughts of weddings and cousins....

I didnt stay at the cottage long. Just enough for the kids to grab some food and back we went.
I think, no I know, it was more me...The ocean was calling me...beckoning me to be immersed...to go back.

*Obviously I had written this back in the Summer, and I had never posted it...and yet my thoughts today led me back...And Oh, I enjoy the beach even in the winter.
The photo is off the coast of Maine.

Confessions V

2008-01-15T09:46:00.000-05:00

The days come and go, some more swiftly than most.
Blurred by moments within a life.

Just as much as days, time, bleed one into the other, I too, come and go.
It is my nature.

waxing and waning.

No reasons, no excuses. It is what it is.

My world is white. Bright white, could almost be said to be painfully white.
There are those who utter, "It's a winter wonderland". They look out their little windows, away from their little cubes, their existence, and speak in awe of the world outside of themselves.
As if it never existed prior to the storm.

We had enjoyed a week of warm temperatures, pushing past sixty degrees. Many played, enjoyed the reprieve. Old Man Winter must have been napping.

I looked out my cracked window, and watched the white melt away. Watched the world about turn to mud.
And waited.
Waited for the new fresh blanket.

Driving into work, and yesterday during the falling of heavy wet flakes, I made sad attempts at playing a photographer. Sigh, there is a reason why I don't take photos.

The world appears more peaceful. Quiet.
The exception of wood cracking, an occasional thud of a branch finally succumbing to weight.
And the slight tinkling, of snow descending.

Serene.
Beautiful.
Painfully white.

Where does this lead me? My final confession(via Chris): I hate snow. Every last bit of it. I grew up here in New England. I played out in the snow as a child. I made my way down the largest hill ever known to man, upon a device(whatever we could find; an inner tube, a sled, a piece of plastic,etc) and laughed all the way down.
I've made snowmen, snow angels, used to ice skate on ponds in sub zero weather. Enjoyed a few snowball fights, in my time.
Yet, I hate snow.
To twist it up, as my mind only could, I would never move away from my little Northeast nest. Doing so would cause me to miss the seasons, more particularily the snow. The snow as it was this morning.
For the subtlety hovers.
Now I know this all has not been oooo ahhhh confessions. I truly have nothing, from my perception anyway, that is a huge confession. I lay it out here, just as honest as I can and know how. Now you all have had a chance to ask "those" questions. So if ya didnt ask, I dont know, hence I wont write. See how that was suppose to work? Tsk tsk....

8Things meme:(via Nick)
7) Eight things I learned in the last year

1) I'm not Superwoman....Geeesh I know eh? Talk about an eye opener. ;)
2)That if you peel potatoes, and then turn on your disposal, and run water as one should....That if you use HOT water...You make mashed taters....In your drain...Just beyond where the snake can reach and in a bend.
3)* Failure is the perception of the one looking through...Sometimes we need to step out and look again. Stumbling and falling is NOT failing.
4)I learned that thinking we have dug deep and shoveled for hours...is just a perception. That when we pick up that shovel again, we find more. Baubles and treasures alike amongst the ruins.
5)I learned I extend myself out way too far. That the rubber band I balance upon snaps hard. It smarts as well.
7) dreams persist.
8)And finally, I learned that no matter what joy I catch or chaos I embrace for the moment, Life is good. And my blue meets the gold, and I await that glorious glowing orb in the morn. As I do each and every morn.

Number eight was suppose to be tagging eight people I appreciate. Well I appreciate you all so much I am not going to tag you.
BUT:
I am going to pimp out EIGHT newish blogs(new to me) and ask you all to stop by and say hello!
1. Make a Halo with your Hands-Callahan
2. The Only Thing I know-"judith"
3.Sarcastic Mom-Lotus
4. Avery Gray
5. Missives from Suburbia-Deb
6. Bliss in Bloom-Piper
7. The Immoral Matriarch-Maria
8. Oh how my winter's night fly-Holly

Now if I didnt list you it doesnt mean I dont appreciate you. Just means I had eight spots!

Seven Questions, inspired by WL Elliot:
Number five question of Seven:
Comes from Jeff:Here's one: If you could pick a man and woman (throughout history) to be your parents who would they be, (or have been)? You have to disqualify your own parents and your choices do not have to be connected together (e.g. Abe Lincoln and Susan B. Anthony).
Oh my!
Well for my mother? I'd have to say either Queen Eleanor of England or Bette Davis. My dad? Hmmmm.... Henry Fonda or Jimmy Stewart. But knowing my personality, it would be more along the lines of Vlad or Khan... :))

Number Six of Seven: Comes from Loz...Ok - I know you're a septic [aussie rhyming slang - septic tank = yank], that you're a yankees fan and that you have French ancestry - but my question is where the bloody hell are you ;)
Well gee I dont know if I want to tell you now! LOL... Well I am in Southern New England. In a state surrounded by states with populations that all talk with heavy accents. Of course we dont here. Ahem. It is the second smallest state.

Number Seven! Is still unasked. I think you are all chicken...

Confessions IV

2008-01-09T11:26:00.000-05:00

I know I know you are getting sleepy, bored to tears. Sigh.

Just one more to go...
Confessions inspired by Chris
Confession Number 4:
Music is an obsession. Not so much a confession eh? Well, of course that is just the short version. The typical long winded prose is, I used to sing to Edie Gourmet and Steve Lawrence using a round hairbrush as a microphone.
When I was a kid and man I could belt out a great musical. It was a dream to sing on Broadway, or in a musical. My brain at the time never accounted for the fact that some of my favorite movies, were made many eons before I was a thought. Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire were not so much those men they had portrayed, by the time I wanted to sing with them.
I wanted to play piano, desperately. I can. Yet I am confessing I suck at it. I am insanely jealous of those who can play an instrument. I have a household full of people who can do this, and not just one instrument. Nah, they have to rub it in and play three or more.
Damn them!

But I can sing.

My interests in Music is obsessive. A constant search for new, a constant search for something old.
I am not so picky as to discount any one genre of music, based solely on the fact it is a certain genre.
I prefer rock-read, heavy(death, speed, thrash,hard core, punk,goth) metal.
Yet I can go from Slayer to Johnny Cash to Early Music(Century 1) one right after another. At any given time, one could walk into my humble abode and there would be music somewhere. At times, in every room. Or somebody playing(again, damn them!)

But I can sing.

So my parents, in their infinite wisdom(remember it was the 70's), knowing I wanted to take piano lessons, opted for a finer instrument. Oh yes. Kinda sorta almost like a piano.
An accordion.
Yes.
Laugh now get it out of your systems.

But I can sing.

8things meme, inspired by Nick:
5) Eight songs I could listen to over and over again

1) Rude Mood-Jim Thackery
2) TinPan Alley- Stevie Ray Vaughn
3) When the blue of the night"-Bing Crosby
4) Lunatic Fringe- Gary Hooey version
5) O Virtus Sapientie - Hildegard von Bingen
6) Green Grass and High Tides-MT
7) Shine On Crazy Diamond- Pink Floyd
8) And about 500 other songs- seriously!

6) Eight things that attract me to my friends

1) Sense of Humor...wit..and sarcasm.
2) Sense of themselves
3) Open mind
4) Laid back
5) general dislike for Drama-Stupidity-Ignorance
6) their laugh
7) Common Sense Aptitude
8) To agree to disagree without animosity...a must in my world.

Seven questions inspired by WL Elliot
Third Question of Seven comes from Avery:
What is the one material possession that means the most to you, and why?
Material possession....hmmmmm....
Just as a point of reference, I have sat looking at this question for 5 minutes and watched the cursor blink. I walked away, and yet it still blinked in my head.
This truly should not be this hard.
I, in my former life, was as materialistic as they come. That lasted all of three years. :D
As for material items...I have many things that I adore. That I can look at everyday, and hold something special, in the memory and within my heart. Each having their own "personality".
There are pieces of Art, their are my books(an original Poe and Tennyson!).
My brushes, number 10 brights, mean the world to me.
My notebooks.
My children's photographs.
A piece of torn paper.

That one thing that means the world to me eh?
I have the last pack of cigarette's my father ever had before he passed away. One clear memory of that surreal moment, he was in and out of being in this world and stepping into another, when he grabbed me by my shirt, pulled me in close and blew me a kiss and said my name. He had requested a "smoke" and my oldest brother tried to explain that we were in a hospital. My father admonished D, as he didnt quite understand. My thoughts ran deep, at that very moment, every little nuance of the man just flashed, not only in my mind but it yanked my heart out, right on that very spot.

My favorite dog's tag, on my key chain.

My most favorite and coveted material possession- would be two handwritten notes from the Man. I have carried both since the day he left them for me. Never have they not been with me.
Ever.

So did I answer the question? Nah not really. I apologize. I guess if I were to be in a burning building, what would I grab? My children, my memories and run.

I am adding a question
Number four out of seven:
From New North:
The last movie I saw in a theater.
Well, now this is awful- especially for the point I write scripts...lol
Well okay because I am a quasi writer...and can afford?
Its been a while. Geeezz, Blair Witch? Mayhap...

I rent a lot and I am an independent film lover so I like to go to out of the way theaters...

You can still leave a question if you so choose....

Looking Beyond the Cracked Window...

More mind rubble

Driving thoughts(aka even more rubble)

Pointless chatter

Changing Digits

Mind Rubble

Cloudy with a Chance of Optimism

Why

Automatic

Let it Rain...

Review,Rebut,Redo?

I wore socks today

One side of a conversation

Dont assign me

In the Hue of Blue

Inner Child

Once Lost

Why nothing gets accomplished...

Riptide

Dear Muse......

Didn't I just do this? Oh...yes a year ago...

Someone's Mother

Smoldering....wispy

There are moments, rare, yet there are...

a momentary lapse of coherency

Oh...Oh my

Dang...

The space I live

Greetings

Content

What are you?

dwelling

Stagnation

Walmart ....Its about time

Spring has Sprung

Everything You did NOT want to know...

TV Talking

Chap 3:SBT "Sisters will be Brutal"

It is Monday afterall...

The Short and sweet of it....

SBT Chapt 2:"It's all in the appearance"

Sidebar Story: Chap. One

Spilled over...

A peek into...15 seconds of my life

My 2 Cents....(worth a bout a penny cost 4 cents to make)

I buy No Words...

Writing outloud

Waiting....

There is a Rhino in my head...

Observations Front Row:

Clippings...

Breakfast at the Jones

Words #60

Masks

And the WInd Howled(part Four)

*Intermission*

And the Wind Howled(part Three)

...And the Wind Howled -part Two

...And the Wind Howled...part One

Hedonist pilgrim I am...

Dunno, just is

A fifth for Friday

Snippets#3

Someone's Mother

The ease of inference.

While I am on this Roll

Note to self(TYPO LADEN BABBLE)

Friday...and she is still babbling

Dreaming of Sand

Confessions V

Confessions IV

Intermission